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•MKIlfT 


, 


BATES'  POEMS. 


POEMS, 


DAVID  BATES. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

LINDSAY    &    BLAKISTON. 
1853. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853, 
LINDSAY   AND   BLAKISTON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Eastern  District  of 
Pennsylvania. 


TO 

JOHN     ALLEN, 

THIS  VOLUME 

IS   RESPECTFULLY    INSCRIBED    BY    THE 

AUTHOR. 


490 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 
Proem,          ......  9 

Poesy,    .  .  .  .  .  13 

Speak  Gently,  .  .  .  .  .15 

The  World  of  Mind,        .  .  .  .-  17 

Light,  .  .  .  .  .  .19 

The  American  Flag,       .  .  .  .  22 

Unwelcome  Visitors,  .  .  .  .24 

Musings  at  Cape  Island,  ...  27 

Birth-Day  Thoughts,  .  .  .  .29 

Laurel  Hill,        .  .  .    .        .  .  31 

A  Storm,       .  .        *'    .    .        V        \   .  .         33 

Wissahiccon,      .  .  .  .  .  35 

The  Poor,    .    •         .         •    .  .  .  .38 

The  Battle  of  the  Books,  .  .  .  41 

The  Invitation,          .  .  .  .  .48 

The  End  of  the  Wotld,  ...  50 

Stanzas,         ......         52 

Eliza,      .  ,  54 


Mil  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Ella,  ......         56 

The  Album,        .....  59 

To::::::::, 60 

The  Stolen  Heart,  ....  63 

The  Lost  One,          .....         64 
The  Unknown,  .....  66 

Home,  .  .  .  .  .68 

Kitty  White,       .....  70 

Music, 72 

The  Truants,      .....  74 

We  met,       ......         77 

A  Contrast,         .....  79 

On  the  Death  of  a  Friend,     .  .  .  .80 

A  Sacred  Gift,    .....  82 

Day-Dreams,  .  .  .  .  .84 

The  Sailor's  Sanctuary,  ...  87 

Musings,       ......         89 

A  Child's  Prayer,       .    < . .  •         .  .  .  91 

The  Altar, 93 

There  is  a  God,  ....  95 

Thoughts  on  Death,  .  .  . .  .100 

Monumental  Inscriptions,  ,    '        .  .  102 

Leona,  .  .  •   '         .  .  .       105 

Musings  on  Life,  .  .  .  .  108 

The  Sceptic  and  the  Believer,  .  .  .112 

The  Spirit's  Wing,          .  .  .  .  115 

Lelia— Part  I.,  .  .  .  .123 

-       "        Part  II.,  ....  151 

Part  III.,        .  -.-,*  .  .181 


PROEM 


THE  Universe  is  full  of  harmony  : — 
I  stood,  a  listener,  in  the  outer  courts 
Of  Nature's  Temple  ;  and  the  melody 
Came  from  a  thousand  harps,  o'er  which  the  air 
Played  with  its  viewless  fingers. 

- 

Ocean's  voice 

In  solemn,  ceaseless,  swelling  grandeur  joined  ; 
The  rivers  murmured  in  their  onward  flow  ; 
And  rippling  brooks  and  streams  in  softer  chimes 
Sent  up  their  anthem  from  their  pebbly  beds  ; 
While  oft  the  thunder  rolled  its  heavy  ton^s 
In  startling  majesty  through  Nature's  dome, 


PROEM, 


Until  her  temple  trembled  with  the  peals 

That  waked  the  slumbering  mountains  from  their  dreams 

To  give  responsive  echo. 


Standing  round, 

The  trees,  like  worshipers,  swayed  to  and  fro, 
And  sighed  their  low-voiced  wailings  on  my  ear  ; 
And  gentle  flowers,  Nature's  symphonies, 
Breathed  their  soft  odorous  breath  around  my  heart. 
The  bee  came  by  with  music  on  his  wings  : 
And  birds,  with  varied  voice  of  sweetest  song, 
Poured  out  their  joyous  notes  in  untaught  strains. 


As  thus  I  heard  the  universal  hymn 
From  Nature's  choir  ascend,  I  felt  a  thrill 
Of  rapture  through  my  soul  that  stirred  its  depths 
To  kindred  sympathies. 


And  listening  still, 

I  caught  some  strains  that  came,  Eolian-like, 
With  their  impulsive  breathings  on  my  heart : 
And  I  have  sung  them  as  I  best  could  sing ; 


\ 

PROEM. 


Feeling  how  feeble  language  oft  must  prove 
To  paint  the  strong  emotions  of  the  soul ! 
If  they  shall  touch  one  heart,  and  make  it  throb 
With  warmer  feelings  towards  the  human  race, 
Or  kindle  in  the  mind  one  holier  thought, 
Or  fix  one  purpose  stronger  in  the  right, 
Or  soothe  one  sorrow,  lull  one  fear  or  pain, 
I  have  not  toiled  for  naught,  nor  sung  in  vain. 


POESY. 


AWAY,  wing'd  coursers,  that  wait  on  the  soul, 

On  your  pinions  free  and  strong; 
And  gather  me  gems  without  control, 

In  the  beautiful  land  of  song. 
'Tis  a  pleasant  land,  where  ye  oft  before 

Have  gathered  me  flowers  bright; 
And  in  those  gardens  are  many  more, 

As  fair  to  the  taste  and  sight 

How  deep  is  the  stream  of  affection  there  — 

Of  love,  that  is  brimming  o'er  ! 
And  startling  oft  are  the  waves  of  despair, 

That  break  on  the  peaceful  shore. 
And  the  turbid  waters  of  passion  rise, 

Like  boiling  springs,  on  the  waste, 
Upon  whose  margin  affection  dies, 

And  beauty  is  ever  defaced. 
2 


14  POESY. 

I  love  not  the  sad  and  mournful  themes, 
That  press  down  the  heart  with  woe ; 

But  the  pure  and  purling  crystal  streams, 
That  sing  as  they  gently  flow. 

Then  away,  wing'd  coursers,  to  scenes  that  are  fair ; 
Leave  all  that  is  sad  and  wrong ; 

And  bring  but  the  gems  that  are  rich  and  rare, 

• 
To  wreath  in  a  beautiful  song. 


SPEAK    GENTLY. 


SPEAK  gently ! — It  is  better  far 
To  rule  by  love,  than  fear — 

Speak  gently — let  not  harsh  words  mar 
The  good  we  might  do  here  ! 

Speak  gently  ! — Love  doth  whisper  low 
The  vows  that  true  hearts  bind ; 

And  gently  Friendship's  accents  flow  ; 
Affection's  voice  is  kind. 

Speak  gently  to  the  little  child ! 

Its  love  be  sure  to  gain ; 
Teach  it  in  accents  soft  and  mild : — 

It  may  not  long  remain. 

Speak  gently  to  the  young,  for  they 
Will  have  enough  to  bear — 

Pass  through  this  life  as  best  they  may, 
'Tis  full  of  anxious  care  ! 


16  SPEAKGENTLY. 

Speak  gently  to  the  aged  one, 
Grieve  not  the  care-worn  heart, 

The  sands  of  life  are  nearly  run, 
Let  such  in  peace  depart ! 

Speak  gently,  kindly,  to  the  poor  ; 

Let  no  harsh  tone  be  heard  ; 
They  have  enough  they  must  endure, 

Without  an  unkind  word  ! 

Speak  gently  to  the  erring — know, 
They  may  have  toiled  in  vain ; 

Perchance  unkindness  made  them  so  ; 
Oh,  win  them  back  again  ! 

Speak  gently  !  —  He  who  gave  his  life 
To  bend  man's  stubborn  will, 

When  elements  were  in  fierce  strife, 
Said  to  them,  "  Peace,  be  still." 

Speak  gently  ! — 'tis  a  little  thing 
Dropped  in  the  heart's  deep  well ; 

The  good,  the  joy,  which  it  may  bring, 
Eternity  shall  tell. 


THE     WORLD     OF    MIND. 


THERE  is  a  world  where  the  active  mind 

Soars,  unrestrained  by  the  grovelling  strife 
That  would  press  it  down,  and  its  pinions  bind 

To  the  dull  and  plodding  things  of  life. 
This  world  is  the  boundless  realm  of  thought ; 

Where  it  plays,  like  a  meteor  through  the  sky, 
And  brings  the  forms,  by  its  fancy  caught, 

To  the  nearer  gaze  of  the  curious  eye. 

From  sphere  to  sphere,  and  from  star  to  star, 

With  a  freer  flight  than  the  lightning's  wing, 
Through  limitless  fields  of  ether,  far 

Above  where  the  wheeling  Systems  sing, 
It  wanders  over  celestial  plains, 

Through  verdant  pastures  and  blooming  vales  ; 
And  catches  the  soft  and  soothing  strains 

Of  harp-tones,  waked  by  the  breathing  gales.  - 


18  THE      WORLD      OF      MIND. 

Though  there  are  mountains  that  towering  stand 

On  the  border  paths  it  must  pursue ; 
And  mighty  ofeeans,  and  desert  sand, 

That  must  be  crossed  for  a  pleasant  view  ; 
Yet  Hope  lures  on  by  her  constant  smile, 

And  ever  points  to  the  happy  bowers ; 
And  Fame  afar  is  standing  the  while, 

Forever  waving  her  wreath  of  flowers. 

But  many  loiter  along  the  streams, 

And  quail  ere  the  journey  is  begun  ; 
Content  to  catch  but  the  feeble  beams 

That  flow  from  the  distant  central  sun. 
Rouse  up,  faint  heart,  from  thy  soft  repose  ; 

The  sensual  clogs  from  thy  soul  unbind  ; 
And  thy  journey  onward  will  soon  disclose 

A  higher  bliss  in  the  world  of  mind. 


LIGHT. 


THOU  Sun-!  from  whose  broad  disk  ethereal  rays 

Are  poured  profusely  over  land  and  sea, 
Until  all  nature  kindles  in  the  blaze — 

I  wonder  not  the  Persians  worship  thee  ; 
For  I  have  stood  and  watched  thy  morning  beams 

Empearl  the  landscape,  bathed  in  crystal  dew  ; 
Or  dance  at  evening  on  the  crimsoned  streams  ; 

Or  fringe  the  clouds  that  veiled  thee  from  my  view, 
Until  I  felt  that  I  could  almost  worship  too. 

Thou  source  of  life  and  light !  whose  magic  power 

Sustains  the  changes  of  the  rolling  year  ; 
Paints  the  young  verdure,  and  the  opening  flower, 

And  permeates  the  earth  and  atmosphere. 
Atoms  and  worlds  alike  bask  in  the  light 

That  streams  unceasing  from  thy  central  fire  ; 
Which  being  quenched  one  moment,  ancient  Night 

Her  throne  would  take,  and  Nature  would  expire  : 
O  !  Earth,  the  mother  thou  of  life,  thou  Sun,  the  Sjre  ! 


20  LIGHT. 

Creation  slept,  as  sleeps  an  unborn  thought, 

Until  the  darkness  from  its  couch  was  driven, 
And  then  awoke,  and  shouted  as  it  caught 

The  rays  from  thy  refulgent  orb  in  heaven. 
And  for  six  thousand  years  thy  steady  light 

Hath  blessed  the  nations  of  the  teeming  earth, 
Giving  successive  seasons,  day  and  night, 

And  all  that's  beautiful  and  lovely,  birth — 
Man  knows  this  much,  and  owns  at  least  thy  power  and 
worth. 


But  all  thy  natural  splendors  were  in  vain — 

The  moral  darkness  brooding  o'er  mankind 
Called  for  another  sun  upon  the  plane, 

To  kindle  in  the  firmament  of  mind. 
Judea's  hills  first  caught  its  morning  rays, 

And  angels  stooped  from  their  abodes  of  bliss 
To  hail  the  Harbinger  of  better  days, 

The  Sun  of  Righteousness,  the  Prince  of  Peace 
'Tis  not  idolatry  for  man  to  worship  This. 

•    .  '  •* 

Though  yon  resplendant  orb  may  set  in  gloom, 

And  shuddering  Nature  on  her  couch  recline, 
While  darkness  like  a  pall  enwraps  her  tomb  ; 

Still  shall  this  Light  in  glorious  triumph  shine. 


LIGHT.  21 

Already  has  it  broke  the  mental  night 

That  hung  upon  the  world  its  withering  ban  ; 

And  nations  now  are  rising  in  their  might—- 
Both king  and  subject  hold  whate'er  they  can — 

Each  one  alike  surprised  to  find  himself  a  man. 

Its  march  is  onward,  like  a  rushing  tide 

That  ebbs  not  though  the  stream  may  rise  and  fall, 
Sweeping  oppression,  tyranny,  aside  ; 

Thrones,  sceptres,  titles — verbal  nothings  all — 
Shall  vanish  as  the  mists  at  morning's  dawn  : 

Its  foes  must  yield,  or,  overwhelmed,  be  hurled 
From  their  high  seats  ; — from  clime  to  clime,  still  on, 

Its  banner  shall  be  over  all  unfurled, 
Until  its  splendor,  like  a  glory,  wraps  the  world. 


THE    AMERICAN    FLAG. 


THE  Flag  of  my  country !  how  proudly  I  hail 

Its  stripes  and  its  stars,  as  it  floats  in  the  gale, 

From  battlement,  tower  and  mast,  o'er  a  land 

As  free  as  the  air  by  which  it  is  fanned  ! 

A  terror  alike  to  the  tyrant  and  slave  ; 

But  the  standard  where  rally  the  good  and  the  brave. 

How  easy  and  graceful  its  tremulous  motion, 
As  it  curls  to  the  breeze,  like  a  wave  of  the  ocean, 
And  spreads  its  broad  folds,  like  an  angel's  bright  wing, 
O'er  the  freemen  who  scorned  to  be  ruled  by  a  king  ! 
Though  in  war's  dread  commotion  it  first  was  unfurled, 
Yet  its  motto  is  freedom  and  peace  to  the  world. 

The  land  it  floats  o'er  is  a  beautiful  land  : 
They  who  flung  it  aloft  were  a  glorious  band ; 
But  to  guard  it  from  insult,  or  foeman,  think  you 
There  are  spirits  less  daring,  or  hearts  now  less  true  ? 
Be  assured  in  the  onset,  no  freeman  will  lag, 
When  called  to  defend  the  American  Flag, 


THE     AMERICAN     FLAG.  23 

Its  country,  though  young,  was  a  giant  at  birth ; 
It  commands  and  receives  the  proud  homage  of  earth  ; 
And  defies  all  the  arts  of  the  crowned  heads  combined, 
Who  would  trample  it  down,  and  enslave  all  mankind : 
It  laughs  at  their  folly,  and  scorns  their  vain  toil, 
For  each  true  man's  a  sovereign  that  treads  on  its  soil. 

His  Flag  is  his  altar  ;  each  hearth  is  a  throne  ; 
The  cause  of  his  country,  he  feels  as  his  own ; 
And  proclaims  to  all  tyrants  and  pitiful  elves, 
That  intelligent  freemen  can  govern  themselves  : 
Be  assured,  then,  that  never  a  freeman  will  lag, 
When  called  to  protect  the  American  Flag. 


UNWELCOME    VISITORS. 


BEGONE  dull  CARE,  and  blighting  SORROW, 
Away,  this  moment,  now  away  ! 

You  never  should  come  till  to-morrow — 
I've  other  things  to  mind  to  day. 

Your  very  presence  is  distressing,      * ,  • 
Although  you  sat  not  on  this  brow ; 

Your  absence  is  to  all  a  blessing, 
And  I'm  resolved  to  have  it  now. 

Defer  your  claims — there's  no  good  reason 
Why  I  should  spend  this  day  demure  ; 

Call  on  me  then  ;  some  other  season 
Will  answer  me  as  well  I'm  sure. 

I  know  you  well,  nor  have  you  vainly 
Sought  out  before  my  place  of  rest ; 

And  now  the  truth,  to  tell  you  plainly, 
You're  poor  companions  at  the  best. 


UNWELCOME      VISITORS.  25 

You've  dogged  my  footsteps  many  an  hour, 
And  robbed  me  of  some  pleasant  dreams, 

And  lest  I  might  forget  your  power, 
You  just  stepped  in  again,  it  seems. 

It  will  not  do — I  have  concluded, 

Though  friends  be  gone,  and  this  old  purse 

Of  every  penny  be  denuded, 

That  you  would  only  make  things  worse. 

You  need  not  call  on  me,  'tis  only 

A  useless  trouble  so  to  do ; 
Your  absence  never  makes  me  lonely, 

But  if  it  shall,  I'll  call  on  you. 

Go  seek  some  sentimental  poet, 

Whom  fate  has  cheated,  fortune  spurned ; 

I  love  those,  if  you  did  but  know  it, 
Whose  habits  are  more  lively  turned. 

Now  as  for  care,  'tis  downright  folly 
To  spend  one's  time  with  any  such  ; 

And  though  your  phiz  looks  melancholy, 
'Tis  said  you  sometimes  take  too  much. 

If  we  may  credit  madam  rumor, 

You  both  from  earth  ought  to  be  hurl'd, 
For  putting  people  out  of  humor, 

And  sometimes,  too,  out  of  the  world. 
3 


26  UNWELCOME      VISITORS. 

Care  is  a  coward,  always  fearful 

That  if  on  pleasure's  grounds  he  tread, 

Some  wily  rogue,  while  he  is  cheerful, 
Will  rob  him  of  his  daily  bread. 

Sorrow  is  lean,  and  'tis  no  wonder 
That  any  mortal  so  should  be, 

Who  makes  such  an  egregious  blunder 
As  he  who  lives  on  sympathy. 

Excuse  the  liberty  I've  taken  ; 

I  meant  no  harm,  but  just  to  say 
My  confidence  in  you  is  shaken, 

So  I  must  bid  you  both  good-day. 

Par  nobile  fratrum  ! — you  may  flourish 
Where  e'er  you  find  congenial  soil ; 

But  in  this  breast  I  cannot  nourish, 
Who  would  me  of  my  peace  despoil. 


MUSINGS    AT    CAPE    ISLAND. 


'Tis  night :  I  am  alone,  and  as  I  muse, 

I  feel  my  utter  nothingness,  compared 

With  these  thy  works,  O  God.     Above  me  bends 

The  starry  vault  of  heaven,  in  its  unknown, 

And  unapproachable  sublimity : 

While  spread  before,  the  broad  Atlantic  rolls, 

In  fadeless  grandeur,  and  eternal  youth, 

Its  mighty  mass  of  waters.     Here  let  me,    . 

In  silent  meditation,^  stand  awhile, 

And  watch  the  surges,  in  their  scornful  play, 

Curl  up  their  crested  heads,  and  dash  their  foam, 

In  very  sportiveness,  beneath  my  feet. 

I  love  thee,  Ocean.     In  my  breast  there  dwells 

A  cord  that  vibrates  to  the  slightest  breath 

Of  melody  ;  but  how  it  swells,  and  thrills, 

When  thou,'with  solemn,  ceaseless  hand  dost  sweep 

Thy  mighty  diapason,  lulling  all 

With  thy  harmonious  breathings  into  peace  ! 

I  love  thee,  Ocean  :  but  a  little  while 

Ago,  and  I  was  in  thine  own  embrace  ; 

And  thou  didst  toy  with  me  in  wantonness, 


28  MUSINGS      AT     CAPE      ISLAND. 

And  rock  me  on  thy  breast ;  and  then  in  sport 
Overwhelm  me  with  thy  waves,  and  careless  toss 
Me  like  a  feather  on  thy  bosom. 

Now, 

My  soul  drinks  in  the  grandeur  of  this  scene ; 
And,  as  my  vision  takes  its  wide-spread  range, 
O'er  sky,  o'er  sea,  o'er  land,  I  kindling  turn 
For  some  congenial  ear  in  which  to  pour 
The  gushing  thoughts  that  crowd  upon  my  mind  ; 
But  there  is  none  :  and  all  around  is  still,. 
Except  the  restless  spirit  of  the  deep  : 
With  thee  I  would  commune,  and  listen  long, 
If  thou  would'st  but  unfold  thy  history  : 
But  thou  wilt  not  reply*     Then  list  to  me  : 
Though  thou  art  full  of  strength,  and  I  am  weak ; 
Though  thou  art  vast,  and  I  an  atom  am  ; 
Though  thou  hast  seen  innumerable  hosts 
Of  men  swept  from  the  earth,  as  thy  own  waves 
Successive  roll,  and  break  upon  the  strand  ; — 
And  I  ere  long,  with  all  who  now  have  life, 
And  millions  upon  millions  yet  unborn, 
Must  swell  the  mighty  throng ;  while  thou,  the  same, 
In  strength,  in  youth  and  vigor,  wilt  roll  on  ;— 
Still,  shall  I  not — O  blissful  hope  ! — thou  sea, 
Live  on,  when  thy  proud  strength  shall  fail,  and  cease, 
And  thy  melodious  voice  is  hushed  in  death  ! 


BIRTH- DAY    THOUGHTS, 


UPON  the  pinnacle  of  life  I  stand, 

Midway  between  the  cradle  and  the  grave  ; 

And  as  a  sailor  views  the  less'ning  strand,  % 

One  lingering  look  on  memory's  page  I  crave ; 

Which,  faithful  to  its  trust,  holds  up  to  view 

Some  scenes  I  would  not,  if  I  could,  renew. 

Here  let  me  pause  a  moment,  then;  and  gaze 
Upon  each  passing  scene  of  life  again  ; 

And  view  results,  sought  in  my  youthful  days — 
So  little  now — so  full  of  promise  then  ; 

And  smile  at  care  and  -toil  that  seemed  severe  ; 

For  many  an  act  of  folly  drop  a  tear. 

With  careless  footsteps,  here,  I  ran  along ; 

There,  loitering  by  the  way  in  sylvan  bower, 
I  culled  a  gem  or  two,  and  sang  a  song ; 

There,  wantonly  I  crushed  a  lonely  flower— 
Now  quaffing  mad'ning   draughts   front   pleasure's 

stream — 

Now  mitsing  sat  in  youth's  delicious  dream. 
3* 


30  BIRTH-DAY     THOUGHTS.. 

How  like  a  dream  the  contemplation  seems ! 

As  o'er  the  past  I  skip  from  place  to  place, 
And  pause  a  moment  on  each  spot  that  gleams 

With  stronger  colors  from  the  picture's  face  : 
But  wherefore  longer  on  the  picture  dwell? 
That  it  is  true  to  life,  I  know  full  well. 

For  this  poor  heart  is  wayward  at  the  best ; 

If  not  the  world,  itself  it  doth  deceive  ; 
For,  what  it  longs  for,  that  it  may  be  blest, 

If  gained,  at  last,  is  what  it  most  may  grieve  : 
Still  grieve,  and  fret,  and  hope, .and  long,  it  will, 
Until  its  last  sad  quiv'ring  pulse  is  still. 

The  past,  alas  !  what  wisdom  has  it  brought, 
But  patiently  the  future  to  await  ? 

The  lessons  by  experience  sadly  taught,         „  . 
If  learned  at  all,  are  chiefly  learned  too  late  : 

The  only  rule  of  action  I  can  plan, 

Is  honestly  to  do  the  best  I  can. 

And  oh !  what  consolation  is  it  here, 

As  o'er  the  wrecks  of  time  I  sadly  range, 

To  know  there  is  beyond  a  better  sphere — 
A  blissful  Eden  that  can  never  change  ! 

Let  me,  O  Father,  bear  thy  chastening  hand, 

So  I  at  last  may  reach  that  happy  land. 


LAUREL    HILL, 


IN  this  fair  Eden  of  the  dead, 

I  love  to  while  away  the  hours, 
To  wander  slow,  and  softly  tread, 

Among  the  graves,  the  trees,  and  flowers  : 
See  Schuylkill's  waves  come  rippling  up, 

Like  laughing  elves,  the  pebbles  o'er, 
And  gently  kiss  the  buttercup, 

In  sportive  play  along  the  shore. 

Here  Spring  puts  on  its  loveliest  smile, 

And  wild  birds  sing  their  sweetest  song, 
The  heart  from  sorrow  to  beguile — 

Oh,  I  could  linger  all  day  long  ! 
For,  all  is  quiet,  sweet,  and  lone, 

With  song  of  bird,  and  murmuring  wave, 
To  soothe  the  heart,  and  make  it  own 

The  Jr,uth  that's  wl\ispered  from  the  grave. 


32  LAURELHILL. 

Oh  !  must  I  die  ?  how  sad  the  thought, 

While  all  is  loveliness  around  ; 
To  fall  asleep,  and  be  forgot, 

And  moulder  in  the  cold,  damp  ground ! 
How  sternly  falls  upon  the  heart, 

The  voice  that  answers  from  the  urn ; 
It  must  be  so,  "  For,  dust  thou  art, 

And  unto  dust  shalt  thou  return  !" 

Well  might  the  heavy  heart  despair, 

If  this  were  all  that  met  the  ear  ; 
But  list,  the  heart  may  leap,  for  there 

Are  other  voices  whisper  here. 
Up-springing  from  the  soft  green  sod, 

The  flowers  their  icy  chains  have  riven  ; 
They  smile,  and  say,  there  is  a  God — 

Call  us  to  life,  and  point  to  heaven. 


A     STORM. 


THE  morning  dawri  was  beautiful  and  bright, 
The  sun  in  splendor  rolled  up  heaven's  steep, 

Pouring  on  earth  his  rich  benignant  light, 

And  nature's  face  was  calm  as  beauty's  sleep. 

But  what  is  this  that  dims  the  noon-day  sun, 

And  clothes  the  heavens  in  black,  as  'twere  a  pall ! 

See  !  vivid  streaks  of  fire  shoot  forth  and  run 
Athwart  the  sky,  and  darting,  earthward  fall. 

•'     .  .  *          ,  "  > 

Peal  after  peal  upon  the  startled  ear, 

Reverberating  back  from  hill  to  hill, 
The  thunder  rolls ;  then  less'ning  till  we  hear 
No  moire  ;  and  fearful  is  the  calm,  and  still. 

A  breath  of  air  relieves  the  dread  suspense, 
And  by  its  spiral  motion  soon  we  learn 

It  is  the  dreaded  whirlwind,  and  from  whence 
It  breathes  its  force,  surcharged  at  every  turn. 


v 

34  A     S  T  0  R  M  . 

The  wheeling  clouds  in  wild  commotion  pass ; 

Like  marshalled  warriors  to  the  charge  repair, 
And  dash  their  fury  on  the  sullen  mass, 

And  whirl  the  fragments  through  the  blackened  air. 

The  lofty  oak  that  stood  tHe  tempest  shock 
For  yeasr,  is  twisted  like  a  withe,  and  thrown, 

Prostrate,  upon  the  earth ;  and  scarce  the  rock, 
On  its  firm  basis,  claims  the  seat  its  own. 

How  feeble  then,  O  man  !  your  boasted  strength  ! 

Where  is  your  dignity,  your  scornful  brow, 
Your  stately  strut  with  step  of  measured  length? 

I  fancy  all  are  unavailing  now. 

It  dies  away — and  hearts  beat  free  and  glad; 

And  faces  brighten  up  again — 'tis  o'er — 
And  eyes  meet  eyes  again,  that  late  were  sad ; 

And  heaven  and  earth  are  quiet  as  before. 


WISSAHICCO  N 


FAIR  Wissahiccon,  beauteous  stream, 
I  ever  loved  thy  waters  bright ; 

But  thou  more  lovely  far  dost  seem 

Beneath  the  moon's  pale  beams  to-night. 

For  overhanging  rocks  and  wood 

Within  thy  bosom  seem  to  lave  ; 
And  flowers  kiss  thy  cooling  flood, 
•  And  dally  with  thy  rippling  wave. 

And  richly  clothed  in  robes  of  green 
The  hill  and  dale  their  charms  bestow  ; 

And  winding  through  this  lovely  scene,v 
Thy  crystal  wavelets  murmuring  flow. 

And  in  the  grove  anon  are  heard, 

With  startled  ear,  discordant  screams, 

From  some  bereaved  or  lonely  bird, 

That  woos  his  mate  perchance  in  dreams. 


36  WISSAHICCON. 

But  there  is  yet  another  charm, 

Which  makes  this  scene  a  fairy  land  ; 

For,  resting  fondly  on  my  arm, 
I  press  Leona's  trembling  hand. 

Be  still,  thou  wild  bird  in  yon  grove; 

And  thou  fair  stream  that  gild'st  along, 
Come  listen  to  the  tones  of  love, 

While  now  she  sings  thy  bridal  song. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  be,  to-night,  alone, 
For  we  will  wander  by  thy  side, 

And  watch  thy  joyous  waves  leap  on 
In  haste  to  wed  thy  Schuylkill  bride. 

And  yonder  smiling  on  her  way, 
Behold  her  come  in  beauty  drest ; 

While  glancing  bright  the  moonbeams  play, 
Like  diamonds  on  Her  queenly  breast. 

Now  gliding  softly  to  her  arms, 
Her  pebbly  bed  thy  waters  seek  ; 

And  mingling  with  her  radiant  charms, 
Thy  wavelets  kiss  her  virgin  cheek. 

And  thus  united  they  will  flow 
No  more  among  their  hills  again  ; 

But  on  their  course  will  gently  go, 
Till  lost  within  their  parent  main. 


. 
WISSAHICCON.  37 

So  youth  roams  through  its  happy  day, 
And  scarcely  stops  its  scenes  to  view, 

But  leaps  exulting  on  its  way, 

And  soon  must  bid  them  all  adieu. 

But  we  will  think  of  this  fair  scene, 

Whene'er  arrayed  in  beauty  bright, 
We  gaze  on  yon  majestic  queen, 

That  sweetly  smiles  on  us  to-night." 


4    V. 


THE      POOR.     •• . 

.  ?  •  <.    / 

Give  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches. — PROT. 

TELL  not  the  poor  that  poverty  knows 

A  bliss  that  wealth  would  never  disclose  ; 

That  their  sleep  is  sound,  and  their  bread  is  sweet, 

Because  of  their  toil  through  cold  and  heat ; 

For  poverty  robs,  as  well  as  wealth, 

The  cheek  of  its  bloom,  and  the  pulse  of  its  health  : 

They  both  are  evils  for  man  to  bear  ; 

But  poverty  has  the  greater  share. 

The  cares  of  wealth,  we  will  all  allow,         ... 
Will  furrow  the  cheek,  and  knit  the  brow ; 
But  poverty's  cares  have  a  keener  smart, 
For  they  do  all  this,  and  oppress  the  heart : 
'Tis  enough  to  cause  its  strings  to  break, 
To  think  of  the  shifts  which  it  must  make, 
The  pain  and  neglect  which  it  must  endure  :-r-    • 
'Tis  a  thankless  lot  to  be  honest  and  poor. 


THEPOOR.  39 

Wealth,  though  obtained  by  a  thousand  iviles, 
Still  gains  for  its  owner,  caresses  and  smiles ; 
And  show  me  the  man,  either  grave  or  gay, 
That  will  turn  from  the  world's  applause  away. 
But  hard  to  be  borne  is  the  poor  man's  lot ; 
Why  should  his  breast  have  a  generous  thought, 
Or  his  heart  ever  thrill  with  a  noble  command, 
To  be  withered  and  crushed  with  an  empty  hand ! 

He  must  rise  with  the  dawn,  and  hasten  away, 
To  commence  his  toil  for  the  live-long  day, 
In  factory,  field,  the  shop,  or  the  mart, 
With  a-steady  hand,  and  a  willing  heart; 
Have  his  powers  taxed  to  their  fullest  stretch, 
To  gain  the  end  of  some  craving  wretch; 
Who  values  him,  as  he  does  every  thing, 
For  what  he  is  worth,  and  what  he  will  bring. 

With  the  comforts  wealth  may  now  obtain, 
The  winter  tempest  may  beat  in  vain ; 
But  how  does  it  tell  on  the  half-clad  forms, 
Exposed  to  the  chilling  winter  storms ; 
Or  crowded  together,  cheerless  and  cold, 
In  a  small  rude  dwelling,  open  and  old, 
That  rattles  and  creaks,  as  the  cold  winds  blow, 
And  sift  through  the  chinks,  the  drifting  snow. 


40  THfcPOOR. 

'Tis  pleasant  in  summer's  hottest  days, 

When  the  sun  pours  down  his  burning  rays, 

In  some  cool  shade  to  recline  at  ease, 

While  the  brow  is  fanned  by  the  grateful  breeze ; 

But  when  do  the  poor  lind  leisure  hours, 

To  loll  at  their  ease  in  shady  bowers  ? 

They  must  toil  in  the  heat,  with  reeking  limbs, 

Till  the  heart  is  faint,  and  the  dull  brain  swims. 

And  pain,  with  its  haggard  look  forlorn, 
Of  half  of  its  terrors  may  be  shorn, 
When  wealth,  with  the  comforts  which  it  lends, 
B/ings  the  sympathy  of  troops  of  friends  ; 
But  the  poor,  alas  !  who  pities  them, 
As  they  droop,  like  a  plant  rudely  torn  from  its  stem, 
<•     Alone,  on  their  pallet  of  straw  to  die, 
Unknown  to  the  world  as  it  hurries  by  ! 

O  ye,  who  feast  till  your  senses  pall, 
On  the  blessings  Heaven  designs  for  all, 
To  be  happy,  learn,  of  your  hoarded  store, 
You  need  much  less,  and  the  poor  need  more. 
Ye  brood  o'er  the  wealth,  oppressed  and  sad, 
That  should  make  your  hearts,  and  thousands  glad, 
And  forget  that  you  cannot  be  happy  alone : 
'Tis  the  bliss  of  others  that  makes  our  own. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BOOKS. 


A    STORY    OF    INDIAN    HILL,    OHIO. 

,'*•"..  -  -  ' 

THOUGH  far  away  my  steps  have  strayed, 
From  thy  green  fields,  and  woodland  shade, 
In  lonely  hours  of  thought,  I  still 
Oft  turn  to  thee,  fair  Indian  Hill.       ^ 
'Twas  there  these  eyes,  that  yet  are  bright, 
First  caught,  with  filmy  gaze,  the  light; 
There  respiration  gently  heaved 
This  breast,  that  often  since  hath  grieved, 
And  thrilled,  with  many  a  trifling  toy, 
As  oft  it  did  when  but  a  boy  ; 
'Twas  there  from  that  eternal  cup, 
This  stream  of  life  first  bubbled  up  ; 
And,  as  I  trace  its  devious  coiirse, 
The  objects  brighten  near  its  source  ^ 

4* 


42      THE   BATTLE  OF   THE  BOOKS. 

Perchance  because  the  rippling  rill, 
While  leaping  down  the  rock  and  hill, 
Is  clearer  in  its  rapid  flow, 
Than  deeper  stream  that  moves  more  slow. 

How  vividly  before  my  eyes 
The  scenes  of  boyhood  now  arise  !     . 
Around  I  see  the  neighboring  farms, 
And  cottages  with  rustic  charms, 
Broad  fields  with  ripening  plenty  bloom, 
And  spacious  barns  to  give  it  room..       * 
My  own  loved  home  I  see  again, 
Upon  the  hill-side  up  the  lane ; 
And  murmuring  by,  the  pebbles  o'er,. 
Still  gently  flows  the  Sycamore. 

Close  by,  where  cross  roads,  corner  lands, 
The  Union  School-House  frowning  stands  ; 
Where  many  a  wight  who  chanced  by  fate 
To  play  his  tricks,  or  come  too  late, 
Or  have  his  task  but  poorly  conned, 
.      Has  felt  the  rod  with  jacket  donned, 
And  sometimes  too  with  jacket  doffed, 
Lest  it  might  chance  to  fall  too  soft ; 
Or  felt  upon  his  out-stretched  palm, 
For  broken  rules  there  was  a  balm ;     . 


THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   BOOKS.       43 

And  though  repentant,  gave  good  token, 
He  wished,  at  least,  the  rule  was  broken. 

A  custom, — whence  it  took  its  rise, 
I  cannot  even  now  surmise, — 
Prevailed  among  the  boys  at  school, 
That,  if  the  "master"  wished  to  rule 
With  his  accustomed  power  and  sway, 
On  Christmas,  or  on  New  Year's  day, 
He  must  bring  out  a  handsome  "  treat," 
And  if  he  failed,  he  lost  his  seat, 
And  found  himself  from  school  "  barred  out," 
By  youthful  rebels,  firm  and  stout, 
Who,  though  of  heroes  but  the  germs, 
Were  still  prepared  to  make  their  terms. 

It  chanced  one  Christmas  holiday, 
A  "  master"  failed  respect  to  pay 
To  this  time-honored  '*  common  law  ;" 
Which,  if  obeyed,  he  clearly  saw 
Would  much  impair  his  power  to  rule, 
And  stop  the  progress  of  the  school. 
So,  therefore,  he  resolved  to  try 
And  break  it  up,  or  pass  it  by. 
But  when,  as  usual,  he  appeared, 
The  rebels  from  the  windows  leered, 


'44      THE   BATTLE   OF  THE   BOOKS. 

Then  shouted  out  with  merry  din, 
44  Bring  on  your  treat,  we'll  let  you  in." 
The  44  master"  paused,'  and  looked  about, 
Then  talked  with  those  that  were  without, 
And  bid  them  all  make  up  their  mind, 
t  And  take  which  side  they  felt  inclined.  ' 
These  matters  settled,  he  began 
To  open  out  his  future  plan. 
He  sent  some  to  the  neighboring  wood, 
For  hickory  switches,  long  and  good  ; 
Others  he  bid  a  range  still  wider, 
And  some  bring  apples,  some  bring  cider  ; 
Some  build  a  fire,  whose  flames  soon  rose 
To  warm  their  courage  and  their  toes. 
The  messengers  at  length  returned  ; 
And  soon  their  breasts  with  ardor  burned, 
As  now  the  44  master"  led  his  band, 
Well  armed,  each  with  his  whip  in  hand, 
In  martial  order,  up  before- 
The  barred  and  bolted  school-house  door. 


The  tempting  "  treat"  was  now  displayed, 
And  greeted  with  a  joyous  shout, 

While  those  inside,  somewhat  dismayed, 
Still  felt  that  they  must  venture  out ; 


THE      BATTLE      OF      THE      BOOKS.  45 

For,  surely  there  they  saw  the  "  treat," 

Designed,  of  course,  for  all  to  eat ; 

And  reasoning  thus,  unbarred  the  door — 

But  lo  !  there  stood  the  '*  master's"  men       v.  * 
In  grim  array,  drawn  up  before 

It,  they  were  glad  to  close  again. 
For  woe  to  him  who  poked  his  nose 
Within  the  reach  of  hickory  blows, 
Prepared  to  fall  both  strong  and  fast, 
Before  the  lines  could  e'en  be  passed. 
They  closed  the  door,  put  up  the  bar ; 
And  called  a  council  grave  of  war, 
To  ascertain  what  should  be  done ; 
For  it  was  clear  this  was  not  fun 
Of  just  exactly  their  own  sort, 
Though  others  seemed  to  love  the  sport. 
But,  must  they  meekly  now  surrender  ? 
No,  base  the  heart  that  was  so  tender. 
The  war  determined  now  to  wage  ; 

"With  all  the  force  they  could  command 
They  grasped  and  hurled  the  fluttering  page 

Of  Webster,  and  his  kindred  band. 
And  some  who  "  caught  it"  sore  complained  ; 

Though  they  had  pondered  Webster  o'er, 
Yet  all  the  knowledge  it  contained 

Ne'er  struck  them  with  such  force  before. 


46      THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   BOOKS. 

Meantime  the  siege  was  carried  on  ; 
Nor  was  the  work  offensive  done  ; 
For,  scaling  now  the  chimney  top,     . 
^      They  placed  on  boards  the  smoke  to  stop, 
Which  poured  out  in  the  room  below, 
And  caused  their  eyes  to  overflow. 
The  fire  they  must,  of  course,  put  out, 
Or  they  were  surely  put  to  rout, 
And  windows  raise,  to  give  them  breath, 
Or  they  were  surely  smoked  to  death. 
In  this  dilemma,  one  by  one, 
They  deemed  it  best,  to  quit  apd  run, 
Slip  from  the  windows,  trust  their  heels 
To  scale  the  fence,  and  cross  the  fields  ; 
But  rarely  one  escaped  the  chase, 
Without  a  well  contested  race, 
And  many  a  stripe  the  rebels  caught,  x~ 
Before  they  gained  the  nearest  lot. 


The  day  was  drawing  to  a  close  ; 
But  few  remained,  the  larger  those, 
Who,  with  firm  purpose  in  their  eye 
Resolved  to  fight,  ere  they  would  fly. 
Though  doomed  to  quit  the  bootless  field, 
They  made  no  terms,  asked  none  to  shield, 


THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   BOOKS.       47 

But  sullenly  gave1  up  the  fray,  , 

Unbarred  the  door,  and  went  their  way. 


Thus,  Indian  Hill,  thy  bard  hath  sung 

The  famous  Battle  of  the  Books; 
When  tyranny  by  bribery  wrung 

From  thy  proud  sons  their  manly  looks, 
And  liberty,  to  all  so  sweet, 
To  claim  on  holidays  a  treat. 
Thus  were  thy  sons,  though  stout  and  bold, 

Forced  to  retire,  each  to  his  cottage,   -, 
And  see  his  honored  birthright  sold, 

By  recreants  for  one  mess  of  pottage. 


THE     INVITATION. 


Come,  sister,  from  your  home  afar 

To  this  fair  land  of  ours  ; 
The  sky  is  clear,  as  bright  the  star 

That  smiles  upon  the  bowers. 

Sweet  Spring  has  robed  herself  and  sat 
Down  in  her  bloom  of  bliss  ;       '»  ; 

Thou'st  tasted  all  the  charms  of  that, 
O,  come  and  dwell  in  this  ! 

For  here  are  hearts  that  are  as  warm, 
And  hands  that  are  as  kind, 

And  hills  and  vales,  as  fair  in  form 
As  those  you  leave  behind. 


THE      INVITATION.  49 

Here  centuries  have  softened  down 

Earth's  wild  and  rugged  face, 
And  art  has  lent  its  aid  to  crown 

With  beauty  and  with  grace. 

How  oft,  as  down  the  western  sky 

The  sun  has  sunk  from  view, 
I've  gazed  on  it  with  pensive  eye, 

My  heart  communed  with  you ! 

Then,  sister,  come,  and  with  us  dwell— 

Those  dear  to  you  before ; 
And  you  will  love  us  just  as  well, 

And  we  will  love  you  more. 

'     -     .     "  »        '        v     .      " 

Why  should  those  dear  on  earth  e'er  part, 

To  tempt  the  wild  or  wave ; 
Why  should  one  warm  and  throbbing  heart 

Be  wrung  but  by  the  grave  ! 


THE    END     OF    THE     WORLD. 


THE  earth  was  dry  and  parched.     It  had  not  rained 
For  many  months,  and  all  the  fountains  failed. 
The  sun  poured  down  his  hot  and  cheerless  rays 
With  dazzling  brightness  ;  vegetation  all 
Had  withered  up  and  died  ;  and  man  and  beast 
Lay  nerveless  and  exhausted  on  the  ground. 
The  earth  had  cracked,  and  issuing  from  the  seams 
There  came  a  scorching  steam,  with  now  and  then 
A  fitful  flash  of  flame.     The  eddying  wind 
In  sudden  gusts  sighed  mournfully,  and  whirled 
The  dried  and  crumbling  fragments  high  in  air. 
The  sky  became  o'ercast  with  dense  black  clouds 
That  hung  as  Nature's  pall,  from  which  anon 
The  forked  lightnings  streamed,  succeeded  by 
The  deafening  peals  of  thunder  long  and  loud 
Reverberating  till  earth  shook  as  one 
With  terror  struck. 


*     THE     END     OFTHE     WORLD.  51 

The  boiling  ocean  heaved 
In  wild  and  angry  mood  its  foamy  waves, 
Engulfing  in  its  scalding  brine  the  fleet, 
And  dashing  far  up  on  its  rocky  strand 
The  torn  and  scattered  fragments. 

<  • 

Long  pent  up, 

The  fire  at  length  burst  forth,  and  wrapt  the  earth 
In  one  vast  sheet  of  curling,  crackling  flame : 
Mountains  up-heaved,  fell  crashing  back  again, 
And  rent  the  earth  in  chasms  wide  and  deep, 
Through  whkh  the  ocean  torrents  hissing  flowed. 
The  earth,  appalled,  stood  still,  and  for  a  time 
Refused  the  laws  of  motion  to  obey  ; 
Till  gathering  force  from  her  consuming  fires, 
She  reeled,  and  in  her  last  expiring  throe, 
Shot  from  her  orbit  with  the  lightning's  speed 
Far  in  the  trackless  void  of  space  profound, 
Leaving  behind  a  lurid  stream  of  flame. 
The  moon,  obedient  to  her  laws,  pursued, 
But  soon  was  left  without  restraint  behind. 
And  now,  without  her  ancient  guide,  she  stood 
Confounded  and  amazed  ;  until  at  length 
With  gentle  oscillations -settling  down, 
She  glided  smoothly  in  the  earth's  old  path, 
And  held  her  course  obedient  to  the  sun. 


STANZAS. 


'Tis  autumn's  ripe  and  solemn  reign ; 

With  melancholy  cadence,  sweeps 
The  mournful  breeze  along  the  plain, 

Like  sorrow's  sigh  when  heauty  weeps. 
The  sunlight  falls  upon  the  ground 

In  mellow  lustre,  and  the  trees 
Their  varied  foliage  around 

Them  fling  to  every  wayward  breeze. 
Soon  must  Pomona  shuddering  go 

To  meet  her  certain  annual  doom  ; 
While  winter,  with  its  ice  and  snow, 

Shall  hang  upon  the  land  in  gloom. 

Then  let  us  fly  from  this  bleak  spot 
To  sunny  climes,  whose  vernal  smile, 

In  wild  luxuriance,  harbors  naught 

But  charms  that  will  our  hours  beguile. 


STANZAS.  53 

Where  softly  floating  southern  gales 
Come  richly  laden,  from  the  vales 
And  orange  groves,  with  sweet  perfume  ; 
And  spring  lives  on  in  fadeless  bloom. 
Where  bowers  in  arching  beauty  bend 

Their  cooling  shade  upon  the  green  ; 
And  warbling  birds  and  fountains  blend       / 

Their  music  with  the  lovely  scene. 

Where  e'en  the  bee  his  toiling  hours 

Forgets,  and,  only  revelling  sips, 
And  hangs  upon  the  luscious  flowers, 

Like  kisses  on  love's  lingering  lips. 
Where  amorous  nature's  glowing  charms, 

Displayed  profusely,  all  may  prove, 
And,  nestling  in  her  rosy  arms,  •    . 

Feel  that  the  world  was  made  for  love. 
There,  folding  fondly  on  my  breast 

The  loveliest  form  to  earth  e'er  given, 
In  dreams  of  love  my  soul  would  rest, 

And  envy  scarce  the  bliss  of  heaven. 


ELIZA 


ELIZA,  trips  the  walks  along—- 
Her step  is  light  and  free  ; 

There's  none  among  the  dazzling  throng 
That's  half  so  fair  as  she  ; 

No  gaudy  trinkets  deck  her  form, 
Or  lend  their  witchery, 

Or  airs  affected  seek  to  charm — 
Eliza's  self  you  see. 

Thougtl  fortune  smile  not  on  her  lot — 

Her  favors  are  denied  ; 
Still,  what  the  "  fickle  dame"  forgot, 

Kind  nature  has  supplied  : 


ELIZA.  55 

For  she  is  cheerful  as  a  bird 

That  wantons  on  the  wing  ; 
Whose  wild  and  joyous  song  is  heard 

Amid  the  gush  of  spring. 

So  innocent  and  artless  too, 

So  free  from  care  and  guile  ; 
An  angel  well  might  pause  to  view 

Her  captivating  smile. 
Cursed  be  the  man  who  would  employ 

His  subtle  art  and  power,. 
With  no  intent  but  to  destroy 

So  sweet,  so  fair  a  flower  ! 


E  L    A 


SHE  sat,  a  lonely  little  child, 

And  sang,  a  plaintive  lullaby, 
In  tone  so  gentle,  sweet,  and  mild, 

'Twas  Ifke  the  passing  zephyr's  sigh. 

And,  folded  closely  on  her  breast 

That  scarce  her  own  frail  being  warmed, 

As  mothers  do,  she  fondly  pressed 
The  doll  her  little  hands  had  formed, 

Though  rude  in  form,  and  illy  claoS 

It  answered  for  her  young  heart's  shrine ; 

'Twas  all  to  her,  and  all  she  had, 
And  prized  above  the  richest^mine. 


ELLA.  57 

Her  little  form  was  full  of  grace  ; 

Her  mien,  as  gentle  as  a  dove  ;         ». 
The  soul  that  beamed  from  her  sweet  face, 

A  type  of  innocence  and  love. 

•  %> "  t 

While  gazing  on  her  pensive  eye, 

That  swam  in  light  so  soft  and  clear, 
I  thought  some  cherub  from  on  high 
Had  missed  its  way,  and  lingered  here. 


Unlike  her  mates  of  tender  years, 

She  sought  no  wild  and  boisterous  play ; 

And  yet  it  was  not  childish  fears 

That  kept  her  from  their  mirth  away  : 

•,  *  ' 

Nor  pride  ;  for  she  had  never  known 

The  luxury  of  being  spoiled  ; 
Her  home  no  comforts  claimed  its  own, 
But  those  for  which  its  inmates  toiled. 


Yes,  toiled  from  dawn  to  evening's  close, 
And  oft  beside  the  lamp's  dull  flame, 

Until  the  hours  left  for  repose 

Failed  to  restore  the  weary  frame. 


58  ELLA. 

Sweet  one,  is  this  thy  heritage  ? 

Hath  life  no  other  cup  for  thee  ? 
I  trembled  for  the  coming -age 

That  must  unfold  her  destiny. 

To  wreck  the  bark  with  beauty  fraught, 
Life  hath  at  every  step  a  snare ; 

The  wonder  is,  that  it  is  not, 

And  not,  so  much,  that  thousands  are. 

Those  busy  hands  are  all  too  full, 

Or  weary,  lessons  to  impart; 
And  how  shall  she  the  precepts  cull, 

To  guide  her  steps  and  guard  her  heart  ? 

One  day  I  missed  her  from  my  way, 

And  asked  for  her,  with  trembling  breath  ; 

They  showed  the  couch  on  which  she  lay, 
All  cold  and  beautiful  in  death. 

I  could  have  wept,  while  gazing  on 

That  pale  young  cheek  and  placid  brow  ; 

But  felt  'twas  better  she  was  gone, 
For  there,  I  know,  she's  happy  now. 


THE     ALBUM. 


How  I  regret  to  soil  thy  page, 

Thou  emblem  of  life's  tender  years, 

On  .which  the  withering  stroke  of  age 

Has  neither  dropped  its  frowns  nor  tears ! 

But  soft  impressions,  warm  and  brief, 
May  now  be  made,  and  in  thee  dwell; 

And. time  will  checker  o'er  each  leaf,     . 
Like  age  o'er  beauty  throws  its  spell. 

"    •  •  * .  .  f 

Then  in  thy  bosom  yield  a  place, 

To  all  that's  lovely,  good  and  fair, 
But  never  let  the  vulgar  trace, 

Within  thy  breast,  his  image  there. 


TO 


WHY  is  it  that  thy  form  so  fair, 

Should  pass  before,  in  fitful  gleams, 

My  fancy's  wakeful  hours  of  care, 
As  well  as  those  that  pass  in  dreams  ? 

Why  should  those  eyes,  whose  gentle  light 
Seems  caught  from  some  fair  orb  in  heaven, 

Beam  softly  on  my  'raptured  sight, 
Like  lingering  rays  at  dewy  even  ? 

Why  should  the  pressure  of  that  hand 
Send  to  my  heart  a  glowing  thrill, 

Whose  throbs  heed  not  the  stern  command, 
Which  bids  its  quickened  pulse  be  still  ? 


TO  :::::::::::  61 

Why  should  those  lips,  whose  tempting  bait 

Allures  me,  if  it  were  a  sin, 
Inviting  smile,  and  seal  my  fate, 

One  blissful  moment  thus  to  win  ? 


Why  should  they  not? — I  am  but  man — 

An  angel  well  might  leave  the  bliss 
In  yon  fair  world,  such  charms  to  scan, 

And  lingering  wish  to  dwell  in  this. 

»  *      *       '•  *  **  *  * . 

Then  blame  ma  not  when  thus  I  take 
My  harp,  and  bow  at  beauty's  shrine  ; 

The  cords  of  feeling  all  must  break,      *  V 
Or  vibrate  to  a  touch  like  thine. 

•  ".  •  4 

.  %,  .  '* 

And  harp  and  heart  their  tribute  pay, 
Responsive  to  love's  gushing  charms  ; 

My  harp  shall  yield  its  tuneful  lay ; 
W^hile  ,1  would  fold  thee  in  my  arms. 

With  what  delight  my  breast  would  swell, 
To  pillow  there  thy  head  to  rest ; 

Like  some  fair  nymph  in  ocean  shell, 
Rocked  by  the  billow's  heaving  breast. 


52  TO 


But,  oh  !  a  thought  must  break  the  spell, 
Which  fondly  nestles  round  the  heart ; 

That  those  whose  hearts  could  love  so  well, 
Are  coldly  doomed  to  dwell  apart. 
•          ***«'/  -  * 

Though  there  are  vows  that  sunder  here, 
They  are  of  earth  and  must  be  riven  ; 

Our  spirits  in  some  happier  sphere, 
May  blend  in  ecstacies  of  heaven. 


THE    STOLEN    HEART, 


FAIR  lady,  dost  thou  know  the  crime  ? 

Thou  hast  stolen  my  heart  away  ; 
In  health,  and  now  just  in  my  prime — 

How  could  you  dare  to  do  it,  say  ? 

s 

But  one  arrangement  now  I'll  make  ; 

All  else  that's  offered  will  be  vain ; 
Give  me  your  own,  or  else  I'll  take, 

Though  it  be  broken,  mine  again. 

I  leave  it  for  you  to  decide ; 

Think  ere  you  do,  for  who  can  tell 
What  chances  there  are  yet  untried — 

Some  other's  may  do  just  as  well. 


. 


THE    LOST    ONE. 

*;•  •      •«  '•  -  ', 

' 


E'EN  now  I  feel  my  senses  reeling, 
While  I  think  upon  that  night, 

When  love-revealing  glances  stealing 
From  those  eyes  so  pure  and  bright. 

So  soft  the  gaze — so  mildly  spoken 

Were  these  words,  "  Good  night,"  that  I 

In  accents  broken,  gave  love's  token 
From  my  lips,  my  heart,  a  sigh. 

I  oft  have  sought,  since  that  sweet  hour, 

To  find  out  the  place  of  rest, 
And  cull  this  flower  from  beauty's  bower, 

And  enfold  it  on  my  breast. 


THELOSTONE.  65 

| 

But  since  that  time,  the  joy  of  meeting 

Something  fatal  ever  crossed  ; 
My  search  repeating,  hope  still  fleeting — 

My  loved  one  I  fear  is  lost. 


THE     UNKNOWN. 


THOU  unknown  one,  whose  radiant  charms 

Have  thrown  around  my  heart  a  spell, 
Which  clasps  it,  as  it  were  thine  arms, 

And  bids  me  its  emotions  tell, 
Forgive  me  for  this  rude  address, 

Since  thou  the  fair  aggressor  art ; 
For  had  thy  beauty  charmed  me  less,        •« 

It  would  not  then  have  won  my  heart. 

I  oft  have  marked  the  witching  smile 
That  played  upon  those  lips  of  thine  ; 

And  as  I  stood  entranced  the  while 

More  eyes  gazed  on  thy  form  than  mine. 


T  H  E      U  N  K  N  O  W  N.  .*       .  67 

And  when  our  eyes  have  met  alone, 

How  one  soft  glance  has  stirred  the  strings 

Of  my  poor  heart,  and  made  it  own 

That  beauty's  eyes  are  dangerous  things  ! 

But  thou,  fair  one,  with  charms  so  rare, 

By  nature's  hand  so  richly  crowned, 
Must  guard  the  treasure,  and  beware  ; 

For  beauty  stands  on  dangerous  ground.-   %. 
For  there  are  those  whose  winning  wiles 

Are  ever  practised  to  destroy  ; 
And  while  the  face  is  wreathed  in  smiles, 

The  heart,  alas !  is  base  alloy. 


I 


HOME 


THE  South  may  boast  her  teaming  soil, 
Which  richly  pays  the  laborer's  toil ; 
Her  genial  air — -her  early  spring, 
With  all  the  luxuries  they  bring ; 
But  she  cannot  my  heart  enchain — 
Give  me  my  Northern  Home  again. 

I  love  its  wild,  romantic  scenes  ; 

Its  craggy  rocks,  and  deep  ravines  ; 

Its  cloud-cap'd  mountains,  and  its  vales ; 

Its  cool  retreats,  and  bracing  gales  ; 

Its  crystal  streams  and  murmuring  rills — 

Give  me  again  my  Northern  Hills. 


H  O  M  ,E  .  09 

I  love  the  cottage  and  the  green, 
Where  hardy  sons  with  rustic  mien, 
In  meek  contentment  ply  the  plough, 
And  bashful  maidens  milk  the  cow, 
And  rosy  health  breathes  wild  and  free—- 
My Northern  Home,  again  give  me. 

There,  with  my  pretty  black-eyed  maid, 

I've  wandered  in  the  forest  shade, 

And  danced,  ere  Luna's  beams  were  gone, 

So  lightly  o'er  the  dewy  lawn. 

These  scenes  from  memory  ne'er  will  fade — 

Give  me  my  Home  and  black-eyed  maid. 

From  thee,  dear  girl,  and  from  my  Home, 
I  ne'er  again  may  wish  to  roam 
Beyond  the  light  of  those  dark  eyes, 
Which  more  than  wealth  and  state  I  prize, 
Give  me  but  these,  I'll  not  complain — 
My  pretty  maid  and  Home  again. 


KITTY     WHITE 


I'VE  seen  in  many  a  witching  rnood, 
Some  pretty  forms,  like  fairies  light, 

But  all  that's  lovely  I  ne'er  viewed, 
Till  I  saw  thee— sweet  Kitty  White. 

I  love  to  gaze  on  starry  skies, 

Or  pearly  dew  drops  glancing  bright, 

But  more  upon  those  sparkling  eyes, 
Of  thine,  thou  charmer — Kitty  White. 

Upon  the  waves,  'tis  sweet  to  gaze, 

And  see  the  moon  beams  play,  at  night, 

But  sweeter  far  the  smile  that  plays 
Upon  the  lips  of  Kitty  White.  .  '•" 


KITTY      WHITE.  71 

The  rose  that's  justly  Flora's  pride, 

May  well  comparison  invite, 
But  where's  its  beauty  when  beside 

The  cheek  oflovely  Kitty  \Vhite. 

If  I  perfection  wished  to  draw, 

And  had  the  skill  to  draw  it  right, 
To  paint  a  piece  without  a  flaw, 

I'd  draw  thy  portrait,  Kitty  White. 


MUSIC 


To  me  thy  magic  charm  is  ever  dear, 
Sweet  tranquilizer  of  my  inmost  soul; 

But  every  cord  within  responds  to  hear 
The  deep-toned  organ's  diapason  roll. 

When  in  the  western  sky  the  sun  sinks  down, 
But  lends  to  thee,  to  deck  the  dewy  plains, 

Thou  beauteous  queen  of  night,  thy  silver  crown  ; 
O,  music,  then  how  mellow  are  thy  strains  ! 

The  slumbering  maid  Would  fain  the  time  prolong, 
When  waked  by  some  soft  lute  she  breathes  a  sigh, 

To  think  that  he  who  pours  his  soul  in  song 
To  her  so  near,  is  not  still  nearer  by. 


MUSIC.  73 

Thy  light  lascivious  notes  inspire  the  dance, 

Where  eyes  look  love,  and  hearts  beat  high  with  pride, 

Encircling  all  within  the  giddy  trance; 

They  turn  the  waltz,  or  gallop  side  by  side. 

Thy  martial  spirit  leads  the  warrior  on, 

In  human  blood  his  battle  blade  to  lave  ; 
And  when  the  fight  is  done,  and  life  is  gone, 

Thy  notes,  subdued,  escort  him  to  the  grave. 


THE    TRUANTS. 


COME  hither,  truants,  you  have  played 

An  hour  or  so  upon  the  lea, 
While  I  have  dozed  beneath  the  shade 

Of  this  old  patriarchal  tree. 
I  now  would  know  where  you  have  been, 

Through  what  wild  pleasures  you  have  run, 
What  you  have  done,  as  well  as  seen : 

Come,  tell  me  truly,  one  by  one, 


And  Fancy  said,  "  I  led  the  way 
O'er  hill  and  dale,  surpassing  fair, 

To  that  bright  realm,  which  people  say 
Is  full  of  '  castles  in  the  air.' 


THETRUANTS.  75 

And  there  I  built  a  castle  too, 

In  which  I  fain  would  wish  to  dwell ; 

But  Truth  said  it  would  never  do : 
And  this  is  all  I  have  to  tell." 


Then  Love  said,  "  I  to  Lelia's  bower 

Upon  my  rosy  pinions  flew, 
And  like  the  bee  on  dewy  flower, 

I  kissed  from  her  sweet  lips  the  dew, 
And  nestled  on  her  bosom  fair, 

That  rocked  me  as  it  '  rose  and  fell,' 
While  thus  I  fondly  sported  there : 

And  this  is  all  I  have  to  tell." 


Hope  said,  "  the  Present  is  so  stale, 

The  Future's  scenes  my  thoughts  employ ; 
So,  I  just  pulled  aside  the  veil 

To  please  my  little  sister,  Joy ; 
But  when  she  took  a  peep  inside, 

It  was  so  dark  it  frightened  her, 
And  running  off  from  me,  she  cried, 

The  present  I  would  much  prefer." 


76  THETRUANTS. 

"  I  climbed,"  said  Fame,  "  the  Laurel  tree  ; 

And  twisting  from  its  stem  a  bough, 
Wreathed  this  fair  chaplet  that  you  see, 

And  place  it  now  upon  your  brow." 
And  where  was  Reason  all  the  while, 

I  charged  o'er  all  his  eye  to  keep  ? 
They  whispered  softly  with  a  smile, 

"  The  sluggard  lay  there  fast  asleep." 


WE     MET. 


WE  met,  alone : 

I  gazed  upon  thy  form — my  eye  met  thine, 
And  soon  my  heart  was  bending  at  a  shrine, 

It  dare  not  own. 

We  met  again : 

And  thine  own  kand  familiarly  caressed — 
While  circling  round  thy  form,  close  to  my  breast, 

I  pressed  thee  then. 

O,  words  how  weak 

To  tell  the  bliss,  when  lip  to  lip  once  clings — 
When  the  warm  heart  but  trembles  on  us  strings, 

Too  full  to  speak  ! 

^ 


78  W  E      M  E  T  . 

It  is  a  spell 

I  would  not  break  with  words,  however  warm  ; 
It  is  too  deep  for  utterance ;  its  charm 

Let  silence  tell. 

• 

But  it  is  gone ; 

A  sad,  intrusive  thought  my  heart  will  grieve,-^- 
Let  it  not  thine, — that  I  so  soon  must  leave 

My  gentle  one. 

And  must  we  part  ? 

What  solace  shall  I  seek,  away  from  thee, 
Tell  me,  thou  boasted,  vain  philosophy 

To  soothe  the  heart. 

And  this  is  life  ! 

Its  dearest,  tenderest  ties,  so  soon  are  broken, 
That  we  may  scarcely  treasure  up  one  token, 

From  its  sad  strife. 

But  I  will  keep 

Thy  image  near  my  heart,  though  far  away 
From  thee,  on  land  or  sea,  by  night,  by  day, 

Awake,  asleep. 


A    CONTRAST. 


* 


As  the  ripe  golden  fruit,  to  the  blossoms  of  spring  ; 

As  the  blue  serene  sky,  to  the  storm ; 
As  the  heart  that  is  pure,  to  the  one  that  doth  fling 

Its  treasures  on  all  alike  warm  ; 
As  the  sun-light  that  warms  and  adorns  every  thing, 
Compared  with  the  down  on  a  butterfly's  wing ; 

So  the  mind  is,  compared  with  the  form. 


ON    THE    DEATH    OF    A    FRIEND. 


OH  !  who  can  tell  the  agony  of  feeling, 

As  one  by  one  the  trembling  heart-strings  break, 

While  conscious,  Death  the  vital  spark  is  stealing, 
And  soon  the  eyes  must  close  that  ne'er  will  wake  ! 

Overwhelmed,  oppressed,  the  dizzy  brain  is  reeling, 
The  eye's  dim  vision,  fading  fast  away  ; 

Alas  !  beyond  the  human  skill  of  healing, 
Affection's  hand  cannot  thy  pangs  allay. 

Of  no  avail  the  stimulating  potion — 

The  blood  receding  from  the  lAnds  and  feet, 

The  heaving  chest  betrays  the  last  emotion, 
Ami  every  quivering  pulse  has  ceased  to  beat. 


ON     THE     DEATH     OF     A     FRIEND.  81 

Adieu  !  thy  sun  of  life  has  set  forever ; 

No  more  we'll  meet  thee  on  the  shores  of  time ; 
To  give  thee  wings,  Death  came  these  cords  to  sever, 

That  thou  might'st  soar  into  a  happier  clime. 

•  * 

While  bending  o'er  thy  corse,  tears  of  affection 

The  eyes  of  relatives  profusely  lave  ; 
And  yielding  to  God's  will  in  meek  dejection, 
We  give  thy  body  to  the  silent  grave. 

What  though  the  tempests  heave  the  mighty  ocean, 
The  winter's  chilling  snow  hangs  thick  with  gloom, 

The  earthquake  startles  with  its  quivering  motion, 
They  break  not  the  deep  slumber  of  the  tomb. 

To  thee  'tis  nothing,  sleeping  tranquil  yonder 

Among  the  neighboring  dead,  who  comes  to  mourn, 

Or  what  lone  hour  they  may  choose  to  wander, 
To  drop  a  tear  upon  the  mouldering  urn. 


The  mystic  veil  that  closes  o'er  thy  slumbers, 
And  hides  thee  from  us  here,  we  may  not  move  ; 

The  fleeting  moments  soon  will  tell  our  numbers, 
And  then  its  dread  realities  we'll  prove. 


A    SACRED     GIFT. 


BE  still :  methinks  I  faintly  caught  the  sound 

Of  rustling  plumes.     The  air  is  gently  stirred, 

And  bears  soft  whispers  on  its  balmy  breath.    .    ,  .    %- 

See  !  what  are  these  bright  things  ?     They  seem  to  pause, 

And  hover  o'er  this  spot.     How  beautiful ! 

How  they  wave  their  soft  wings  and  seem  to  rest 

Upon  the  bosom  of  the  buoyant  air  ! 

What  could  bring  such  ethereal  beings  down 

From  their  bright  star-gemmed  home  to  this  bleak  world 

Of  sorrow,  pain,  and  death  ! 

They  now  draw  near ; 

And  bending  o'er  that  small  and  feeble  form  ; 
Unfold,  warm  from  the  bosom  of  its  God, 
A  young  immortal  spirit,  and  enshrine 
It  in  this  new  wrought  form  of  human  clay. 


ASACREDGIFT.  83 

'Tis  done  :  and  quickly  of  terrestrial  things 

They  take  their  leave,  and  to  their  own  bright  home 

In  yonder  sky  ascend. 

Almighty  Power, 

May  thy  best  blessings,  as  the  sunlight  on 
The  opening  flower,  rest  upon  its  head  ; 
May  this  immortal  spirit  thou  hast  given, 
Dwell  here  in  peace,  then  reascend  to  heaven. 


DAY-DREAMS. 


MY  heart  is  often  gloomy,  sad,  and  lone, 

And  darkening  shades  come  floating  o'er  my  sight, 

Like  summer's  evening  mantle  gently  thrown 
O'er  day  reclining  in  the  arms  of  night. 

And  thus  in  pensive  mood  I  seek  the  lea, 

And  yield  to  Fancy's  wild  and  wayward  reign  ; 

And  soon  her  images  are  like  a  sea 

Of  sun-beams,  quivering  o'er  the  distant  plain. 

But  most  on  rural  scenes  it  loves  to  dwell  ; — 
The  leafy  wood-land  cottage,  and  the  plain, 

The  flower  garden,  and  the  fountain's  swell, 
The  blossomed  clover,  and  the  waving  grain. 


DAY-DREAMS.  85 

These  scenes  bring  back  to  m'emory  boyhood's  day, 
Whose  sunny  spots  have  furnished  many  a  theme 

For  poet's  song,  but  having  passed  away, 
Seem  only  like  the  fragments  of  a  dream. 

But  life  itself  is  but  a  dreamy  maze: 

Its  happy  moments  come  unsought;  and  on 

Our  "  air-built  castles,"  while  with  joy  we  gaze, 

One  brush  from  old  Time's  wing,  and  they  are  gone. 

And  day  by  day  we  plod  upon  the  earth 
To  learn  the  lesson  o'er  and  o'er  again, 

That  each  gay  hour,  or  tasted  sweet  gives  birth 
To  some  accompanying  source  of  care  or  pain. 

And  then  how  melancholy  is  the  thought, 
That  life's  short  span  is  lessening  every  day, 

And  I  no  line  have  carved,  no  offering  brought 
For  memory's  shrine,  and  soon  must  pass  away  ! 


O,  Hope !  thou  art  but  a  delusive  light ! 

Thy  promises  to  me  are  seldom  met ; 
Yet  give  me  still  thy  solace  day  and  night, 

Until  this  lingering  sun  of  mine  shall  set. 
8 


86  DAY-DREAMS. 

Then  may  my  longing  spirit  soar  on  high, 
Like  a  freed  bird,  upon  its  wing  afar, 

To  those  bright  orbs  that  kindle  in  the  sky  ; 
Or  onward  keep  and  leap  from  star  to  star. 


THE    SAILOR'S    SANCTUARY 


FAR  on  the  deep  from  home  and  friends, 
A  sailor  seeks  a  place  of  prayer ; 

And  to  the  mast-head  he  ascends, 

And  bends  his  knee  to  worship  there. 

v. 
Above  is  spread  the  broad  expanse, 

Beneath  him  rolls  the  foaming  brine ; 
The  winds  sweep  o'er,  the  lightnings  glance 

Around  the  lonely  sailor's  shrine. 

Oh  !  what  a  place  was  this  to  bend 
In  reverence  to  th'  eternal  throne ; 

And  breathe  his  prayer  in  words  that  friend 
With  ocean's  deep  and  solemn  moan. 


88  THE    SAILOR'S    SANCTUARY. 

While  others  seek  to  while  away 
The  time  so  tedious  when  abroad, 

lie  seeks  a  holier  bliss  than  they, 
In  high  communion  with  his  God. 

What  peace  there  was  within  that  breast ! 

The  elements  around  might  rave, 
They  brought  no  terrors  o'er  his  rest, 

He%  trusts  in  One  that's  strong  to  save. 


MUSINGS. 


IT  cannot  be  that  this  is  all, 

To  wake  to  life,  to  toil  and  pain, 

To  live  a  little  while,  then  fall, 
And  sink  to  nothingness  again. 

For  though  fame's  wreath  the  brow  did  clasp, 
And  beauty  charmed  the  sensual  eye, 

And  earth's  rich  mines  were  in  the  grasp, 
They  all  would  fail  to  satisfy. 

There  -is  a  longing  undefined 

For  what  this  world  can  never  give  ; 

A  restless  impulse  in  the  mind, 

Which  haunts  this  being  while  we  live. 


90  MUSINGS. 

We  search  the  dusty  page  of  lore 

With  throbbing  brain  and  weary  eye  ; 

The  earth,  sun,  moon,  and  stars  explore, 
And  learn  one  truth,  that  we  must  die. 

And  is  this  all — the  chainless  mind — 
Shall  it  with  this  frail  mould  of  clay, 

Be  in  the  narrow  grave  confined, 
And  with  it  moulder  and  decay  ? 

O,  painful  thought ! — it  cannot  be  ; 

There  is  a  home  beyond  the  tomb, 
Where  soar  the  blissful  spirits  free — 

An  Eden  of  eternal  bloom. 


A     C  HILD'S    PRAYER. 


ALMIGHTY  Father,  Holy  One  ! 

Who  dost  for  all  thy  children  care ; 
I  bend  before  Thy  holy  throne, 

And  offer  up  my  feeble  prayer. 

'Tis  evening's  calm  and  peaceful  hour ; 

Soon  care  will  be  by  sleep  beguiled ; 
While  on  my  bed,  Almighty  Power  ! 

From  harm  still  guard  thy  erring  child. 

I  thank  Thee,  now,  with  grateful  heart, 
For  all  the  blessings  Thou  dost  send  ; 

Assist  me,  Lord,  to  do  my  part, 
And  all  my  evil  ways  amend. 


92  A     C  H  I  L  D  '  S     P  R  A  Y  E  R  . 

Forgive  me,  Father,  O  forgive, 

The  wrongs  I've  done  throughout  the  day  ; 
Be  Thou  my  guide  while  here  I  live, 

Nor  let  me  from  thy  presence  stray  ! 

And  when  life's  pilgrimage  is  o'er, 
Take  back  the  spirit  Thou  hast  given, 

To  dwell  upon  that  happy  shore, 
Forever  with  the  bless'd  in  heaven. 


THE     ALTAR. 


IT  is  a  deeply  solemn  thing — 

The  union  of  two  youthful  hearts  ! 

Like  waters  mingling,  each  doth  bring 
The  feelings  which  its  source  imparts : 

And  thus  commingled,  down  the  stream 
Of  life,  the  currents  gently  wend, 

In  union  sweet,  if  love's  pure  beam 

Shall  cause  the  currents  still  to  blend. 

•r 

Yet  storms  will  come,  and  floods  will  rise  ; 

But  they  will  pass,  and  leave  at  rest 
The  troubled  waves,  and  lowery  skies 

Will  brighten  up,  and  all  be  blest 


94  THEALTAR. 

Perfection  is  not  of  this  earth  ; 

Its  home  is  in  yon  regions  far ;  . 

Nor  should  the  hope  of  it  give  birth 

To  aught  that  here  our  joys  might  mar. 

Life  is  not  all  a  pleasing  scene  ; 

It  hath  its  sunshine  and  its  shade  ; 
But  much  of  both,  while  here,  I  ween, 

By  our  own  hands  alone  is  made. 
What  though  the  storms  of  life  may  start, 

And  threaten  us  with  dark  despair ; 
If  there  is  sunshine  in  the  heart, 

The  bow  of  promise  will  be  there. 


THERE     IS    A     GOD. 


The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart  there  is  no  God." — PSALMS,  14th,  1st. 


Is  there  no  GOD  ?     Who  can  look  on  the  earth, 
And  view  the  varied  beauty  and  the  bloom 
That  lingers  still,  with  Eden  loveliness, 
Upon  the  mountain  top  and  on  the  plain, 
And  say,  '  There  is  no  God  ?' 

Oh !  sad,  indeed, 

Must  be  the  lot  of  him  who  shuts  his  soul 
Within  its  feeble  tenement  of  clay, 
Content  to  die,  and  sleep  an  endless  sleep  ! 
Is  there  no  flower,  with  its  radiant  hues 
And  balmy  incense,  sweet  enough  to  woo 
Him  from  his  false  repose  ?     Is  there  no  song 
Of  melody  within  the  shady  grove  ? — 


96  THEREISAGOD. 

No  tone  persuasive  in  the  murmuring  brook  ? — 

No  whisperings  in  the  cool  and  playful  breeze 

Which  he  can  understand?     Is  there  no  voice 

To  startle  his  dull  ear  amidst  the  storm, 

When  earth  beneath  the  rolling  thunder  trembles  ? 

Look  on  this  globe — hung  out,  as  are  yon  stars, 

In  the  unfathomable  depths  of  space — 

With  all  its  mountains,  oceans,  brooks  and  plains, 

Teeming  with  life  in  all  its  varied  forms  ; 

Is  this  the  work  of  chance  ?     Did  atom  find 

Its  fellow  atom  in  the  rayless  void, 

And  form  this  world  ?     Or  did  Omnipotence 

Grasp  in  His  hand  the  dark  chaotic  mass, 

And  mould  it  in  His  quickening  palm,  and  give 

It  laws,  and  light,  and  motion  ? 


Ask  the  Sea, 

Who  gave  it  bounds — do  not  the  waves  curl  up 
Their  crests,  and,  breaking  into  whitening  foam, 
Proclaim  JEHOVAH  ?     Stand  upon  its  shore, 
And  gaze  upon  its  majesty  sublime, 
And  hear  the  deep-toned  music  of  its  voice, 
And  watch  the  strong  pulsations  of  its  breast, 
Forever  heaving  with  the  strength  of  youth, 
Unwearied,  restless,  and  untouched  by  time, 


THEREISAGOD.  97 

And  know  that  in  its  bosom,  far  below, 
Are  sporting  countless  forms  of  joyous  life 
Within  their  ocean  caves  ! 

Look  on  the  Land, 

Strewn  with  the  ever-varying  forms  of  plants, 
Unfolding  their  green  leaves  and  painted  flowers, 
Exhaling  odors  of  as  many  scents 
As  there  are  different  tints  upon  their  blooms. 
The  Animal  Creation  also  view,  *  . 
From  the  huge  mammoth  to  the  light  gazelle ; 
The  insect  tribes — and  birds  with  painted  plumes  ; 
All  guided  by  an  instinct  true  to  life, 
And  fitted  for  their  own  respective  spheres. 
Who  can  survey  these  wonders,  and  not  see 
The  wisdom  and  the  power  of  God  displayed  ? 
But  still,  mysterious  as  these  things  may  be, 
The  mystery  of  mysteries  is  man. 
Behold  him  as  he  wa-ks  forth  in  his  pride  ! 
How  dignified  and  noble  is  his  mien  ! 
With  what  an  air  of  self-sufficiency 
He  walks  the  earth — and  yet  how  mean  a  slave  ! 
A  slave !  Oh  how  he  spurns  the  name,  yet  yields, 
Without  a  struggle,  to  the  tyranny 
Of  his  own  passions,  appetites,  and  lusts  i 
What  mighty  powers  he  exerts  of  mind  ! 
9 


98         x'  THERE     IS     A     GOD. 

And,  careless  of  the  toil,  he  counts  as  well 

The  sm,all  vibrations  of  an  insect's  wing, 

As  revolutions  of  a  ponderous  world. 

Pursues  the  comet  in  its  wild  career 

Through  trackless  fields  and  boundless  depths  of  space, 

And  marks  the  time  of  its  return  again, 

For  centuries  to  come.     The  stars,  those  gems 

That  glitter  in  the  Almighty  Iluler's  crown, 

He  numbers,  classifies,  and  weighs  and  names. 

Plays  with  the  lightning,  as  a  pleasing  toy, 

And  makes  the  elements  subserve  his  will. 

The  marble,  at  his  touch,  starts  into  forms. 

Of  grace  and  beauty  ;  and  the  canvass  bears 

The  almost  breathing  forms  of  his  sublime 

Creative  skill.     His  fancy  knows  no  bounds  : 

It  moves  upon  the  mighty  deep  of  mind, 

As  God's  own  spirit  moved  upon  the  waste 

Of  lifeless  waters.     What  are  these  vast  powers 

Which  he  exerts,  but  emanations  from 

The  Eternal  Mind  !     And  yet  they  are  but  wrecks 

Of  former  greatness,  floating  still  upon 

The  stream  of  human  life. 

How  little  does 

He  know  of  all  the  mysteries  profound 
With  which  he  is*surrounded  !     Tell  us  why 


TJIEREISAGOD.  99 

The  leaf  is  green,  the  blossom  red  or  white  : 
Why  does  the  rose  exhale  a  sweet  perfume  ? 
Where  is  the  spring  that  gives  impulse  to  life  ? 
Why  do  we  live  at  all  ?     Is  the  lone  grave, 
With  "its  still,  cold,  dreamless  repose,  enough 
For  all  the  toil,  the  sorrow,  arid  the  pain 
Endured  through  life  ?     Must  innocence  sink  down 
Beneath  oppression,  cruelty,  and  crime, 
And  fade  away,  and  die,  without  redress  ? 
While  daring  crime"  stalks  fearlessly  abroad, 
And  revels  in  its  fatness,  and  exults, 
In  pompous  pride  or  fiendish  malice,  o'er 
Its  fallen  victims. 


Ah  !  there  is  a  God  ; 
And  unto  Him  at  last  must  man  return 
From  his  benighted  wanderings  from  the  truth, 
And,  like  a  child,  ask  wisdom  at  His  feet. 
'Tis  there  alone  that  wisdom  can  be  found, 
And  there,  the  mystery  of  his  being,  learned. 
There  may  his  'dull  perceptions  catch  a  glimpse 
Of  what  is  lost,  and  what  may  be  regained. 
There  may  he  learn  the  lesson  how  to  live, 
And,  knowledge  worth  possessing,  how  to  die. 


THOUGHTS    ON     DEATH. 


'Tis  but  a  little  thing  to  die, 

To  fall  asleep  in  death, 
To  close  on  earth  the  weary  eye, 

And  loose  the  faltering  breath. 

We  daily  suffer  more  than  this 

In  anxious  thought  and  pain- 
In  what  we  have,  and  what  we  miss, 
In  loss,  or  want  of  gain. 

'Tis  not  to  part  with  life,  we  fear ; 

That  easily  were  borne  ; 
It  is  from  ties  we  hold  more  dear, 

The  heart-strings  must  be  torn. 


THOUGHTS     ON     DEATH.  101 

To  leave  the  prattlers  at  our  knee, 
The  wife,  the  friends  we  love  ; 
All  we  are  now,  or  hope  to  be, 
'  Should  life  a  blessing  prove : 

'Tis  these  that  make  us  cling  to  life, 

With  all  its  toil  and  pain ; 
That  gird  us- up  to  meet  the  strife- 
Renew  our  strength  again. 

I  cannot  bear  the  thought,  to  leave 

These  cherished  ones  alone 
To  meet  the  world,  and  strive  and  grieve 

As  I  do,  and  have  done. 

Spare  us,  O  father,  let  us  stay, 

While  these  strong  ties  entwine ; 
That  I  may  smooth  their  rugged  way, 

And  they,  in  turn,  cheer  mine  ! 


9.* 


MONUMENTAL    INSCRIPTIONS. 


WHAT  matter  where  our  dust  is  laid: — 

The  funeral  pomp  and  show  are  vain  ; 
The  proudest  monument  must  fade, 

And  crumble  back  to  dust  again. 
The  dead  must  soon  forgotten  lie ; 

The  mourners  be  themselves  the  mourned  ; 
And  strangers  soon  will  hurry  by, 

Nor  care  whose  dust  is  here  inurned. 


The  myriad  millions  gone  before, 
Who  lived  and  died  and  are  forgot, 

Have  left  for  record  little  more 

Than  that  they  were,  and  now,  are  not. 


MONUMENTAL      INSCRIPTIONS.  103 

To  mark  the  spot  where  sleep  the  dead, 
Each  spear  of  grass  a  tomb-stone  springs  ; 

The  very  dust  on  which  we  tread 

May  once  have  been  a  slave's  or  king's  : 


'Tis  all  the  same* — Earth  claims  her  own  ; 

The  form  she  lent  the  spirit  here, 
To  draw  nutrition  from  her  zone, 

Is  wanted  in  another  sphere  : 
Perchance  to  deck  the  floral  band, 

Or  give  the  soil  more  strength  when  tilled, 

Or  be  of  some  use  on  the  land ;  — 

/ 

A  task,  in  life,  it  scarce  fulfilled. 


The  dead  then  leave  to  mother  earth, 

While  living  millions  ever  long 
For  light  to  guide  their  spirits'  birth, 

To  see  the  right,  and  shun  the  wrong. 
Oh  !  take  them  gently  by  the  hand, 

Love  them,  and  teach  their  souls  to  love, 
That  they  may  join  the  blissful  band, 

Forever  in  the  courts  above. 


104  MONUMENTAL     INSCRIPTIONS. 

Trust  not  a  stone  to  bear  thy  name  : 

The. fame  is  lost  which  it  imparts  : 
Who  for  his  dust  a  tear  would  claim, 

Must  write  his  name  on  living  hearts. 
And  they  will  bear  it  on  to  fame, — 

Its  sound  shall  make  their  pulses  thrill, 
When,  heeding  neither  praise  nor  blame, 

Who  bore  it  slumbers  cold  and  still. 


L  E  O  N  A. 


IIEONA  —  the  name  gives  my  muse  inspiration, 
And  I  yield  not  reluctantly  to  its  soft  spell, 

For  it  comes  o'er  my  soul  with  its  dreamy  creation, 
And  offers  in  numbers  a  few  thoughts  to  tell. 

As  my  mind  traces  over,  with  swift  retrospection, 

The  years  that  have  passed  since  we  first  breathed  the 
vow, 

It  dwells  with  delight  on  the  pleasing  reflection, 

That  discord  and  strife  have  ne'er  darkened  the  brow. 

'Tis  true  that  adversity's  clouds  have  hung  o'er  us, 
And  threatened  awhile  the  dim  future  to  blight; 

But  they  have  passed  off,  still  leaving  before  us, 
Our  sky  quite  as  clear,  and  Our  prospect  as  bright. 


106  L  E  0  N  A. 

As  a  traveller  wearied  ascends  some  tall  mountain, 

Scarcely  knowing  the  pathway  his  feet  should  pursue, 

Finds  on  its  bleak  summit  a  pure  gushing  fountain, 
And  a  lovelier  prospect  spread  out  to  his  view  ; 

Or,  as  the  lone  sailor,  the  storm's  wild  commotion 
Has  bewildered  and  driven  away  from  the  strand, 

Hails  the  star  that  will  guide  him  safe  over  the  ocean, 
And  restore  him  again  to  his  dear  native  land ; 

So  we  too  have  hailed  each  bright  glowing  vision,  "jj. 

As  it  dawned  on  our  eyes,  and  its  fulness  revealed; 

And  found  the  view  rendered  still  far  more  elysian, 

By  the  fears  which  it  brought  while  it  still  lay  concealed. 

The  brow  by  the  cares  of  this  world  has  been  clouded, 
And  the  heart  in  its  sadness  may  have  given  pain, 

But  yon  sun  too  has  often  his  brightness  all  shrouded, 
Yet  does  he  not  shine  forth  as  brightly  again  ? 

As  the  eagle,  upon  his  strong  pinions  reposing, 

Eyes  awhile  the  dark  storm-cloud  that  broods  o'er  his 
nest, 

Then  dashes  up  through  the  dark  vapor,  disclosing 
The  bright  beaming  sun  shining  full  on  his  breast, 


L  E  0  N  A  .  107 

So  we,  (though  indeed  very  much  out  of  fashion,) 
Have  gazed  on  the  storm  that  was  gathering  awhile, 

Then  rising  above  it,  the  dark  hrow  of  passion 
Has  yielded  its  frown  to  the  calm  placid  smile. 

Though  the  past  has  been  bright,  and  the  cup  we   have 
tasted 

Has  had  but  few  bitter  draughts  quaffed  from  its  cell; 
Yet  still  we  may  find  that  some  sweets  have  been  wasted, 

Which  might  have  been  gathered,  and  tasted,  as  well. 


MUSINGS    ON     LIFE. 


Six  thousand  years  have  passed  away, 

Since  Time  first  spread  his  youthful  pinion, 
With  restless  motion  to  survey 

The  wide  extent  of  his  dominion. 
And  he  has  kept  his  onward  flight, 

And  left  the  mighty  wrecks  behind, 
Of  nations,  proud  of  skill  and  might, 

In  dimness  and  in  death  enshrined. 
As  thus  the  mighty  past  we  scan, 
How  short  appears  the  life  of  man  ! 
Since  Eden's  bowers  were  denied, 
What  throngs  of  men  have  lived  and  died  ! 
The  earth  is  one  vast  grave,  which  groans 
With  teeming  life  'midst  human  bones. 


MUSINGS      ON      LIFE.  109 

In  all,  the  glowing  thrill  of  life, 

Brought  hope,  and  joy,  and  pain,  and  strife  ; 

Ambition's  lofty  kindling  flame, 

Intensely  burning  after  glory  ; 
But,  oh  !  how  few  have  left  a  name 

When  they  were  gone,  to  tell  their  story. 
And  gaze  now  on  the  varied  forms 

Of  busy  life  that  press  around  ; 
And  know  what  hope  each  bosom  warms, 

What  secret  wish  waits  to  be  crowned. 
And  see  men  labor  and  contend, 
To  gain  some  trifling  selfish  end. 
Then  turn  from  this  degenerate  race, 
To  yon  blue  depths  of  boundless  space, 
Where  suns  and  systems  their  vast  rounds 
Perform  within  their  stated  bounds, 
And  know  who  guides  this  mighty  plan, 
And  feel  how  small  a  thing  is  man  :  * 
Who  is,  as  waves  upon  the  ocean, 

Lashed  by  the  storm-king's  angry  hand, 
Tossed  to  and  fro  in  wild  commotion, 

And  lost  as  they  upon  the  strand. 
Death  sets  his  signet  at  each  birth, 

In  glaring  letters  on  each  brow  ; 
And  Time  will  shortly  sweep  from  earth, 

The  throng  of  life  that  crowds  it  now. 
10 


110  MUSINGS     ON     LIFE. 

I  asked  the  mighty  past  how  long 
A  lease  it  gave  this  living  throng  ? 
From  ocean,  mountain,  grave,  and  glen, 
The  answer  came,  "  three  score  and  ten." 
And  is  this  all  ?  shall  man,  proud  man, 
Be  narrowed  down  to  this  brief  span  ? 
r\  his  little  round  of  fleeting  years, 
O'er  which  are  scattered  smiles  and  tears  ? 
'Tis  even  so — and  day  by  day 

The  feebler  pulse  tells  off  its  numbers, 
And  soon  must  cease  its  busy  play, 

Locked  in  death's  cold  and  lonely  slumbers. 
Yet  man  toils  on  as  though  his  lease 

Of  life  were  endless,  and  his  gain 
Would  bring  his  troubled  bosom  peace, 

And  shield  his  trembling  form  from  pain. 
Mistaken  man!  how  vain  the  toil 
Which  seeks  to  hoard  up  glittering  spoil  ! 
Or  seeks  to  twine  around  a  name, 
The  unavailing  wreath  of  fame. 
Wealth  is  but  dust,  a  crown,  a  toy, 
Which  few  attain  and  none  enjoy. 
All  things  of  earth  soon  cease  to  please  ; 
What  madness  then  to  live  for  these  ! 
'1  here  is  a  better  world  than  this, 

To  those  who  seek  it  freely  given ; 


MUSINGS     ON     LIFE.  Ill 

A  home  of  never-ending  bliss, 

With  all  the  happy  throng  in  heaven. 
Where  Time  no  more  will  bring  his  change, 

Nor  Death  his  iron  sceptre  wield, 
Where  blissful  spirits  free  may  range, 

Forever  o'er  creation's  field. 
To  gain'  that  bright  and  blissful  sphere, 
Is  surely  worth  the  toil  while  here. 
When  life's  dim  lamp  shall  feebly  burn, 
And  earth  shall  open  wide  her  urn, 
What  else  but  hope  can  cheer  the  gloom 
Which  hangs  around  the  lonely  tomb  ? 
And  when  this  little  life  shall  end, 
And  dust  with  kindred  dust  shall  blend, 
The  good  of  earth  will  sink  to  rest, 

And  trust  their  spirits  to  God's  keeping, 
As  infancy  upon  the  breast 

Of  its  fond  mother  calmly  sleeping. 
Then  clothed  in  robes  of  spotless  white, 

The  spirit  freed  from  this  dull  clay, 
Will  plume  its  wings  and  take  its  flight, 

As  thought  now  leafs  from  earth  away. 


THE  SCEPTIC  AND  THE  BELIEVER. 


IF  it  were  chance  that  brought  us  here, 

We  still  would  ask,  where  shall  we  go  ? 
What  is  there  more  to  dread  or  fear, 

Than  power  that  deals  a  random  blow  ? 
The  life  we  feel  we  now  possess, 

Come  whence  it  may,  is  wondrous  strange, 
Nor  is  the  marvel  any  less, 

Because  no  being  ruled  the  change. 


If  thrown  by  chance  upon  the  sta^e, 
To  dodge  the  missiles  it  hath  hurled, 

An  hour,  a  day,  a  year,  an  age, 

But  forced  at  last  to  quit  this  world, 


THE      SCEPTIC     AND      THE      BELIEVER.       113 

What  marvel,  if  a  life  remain, 

Though  even  to  such  Power  we  bow; 

What  has  been  once,  may  be  again  ; 
The  wonder  is,  that  we  live  now. 


All  that  is  marvellous  here,  ends  ; 

4 
The  bound  impossible  is  passed ; 

The  life  we  have  ;  itself  transcends 
All  wonder,  it  may  ever  last. 

What  though  we  know  not  how  or  where 
Its  fut are  being  may  unfold  ; 

The  Power  that  gave,  again  may  spare 
The  life  and  room  that  we  now  hold. 


Thus  we  the  doubting  sceptic  save, 

And  by  his  rule,  his  life  reclaim, 
Unless  he  shun  the  opening  grave, 

And  leave  existence  as  he  came. 
But  no,  'twas  God  that  placed  us  here, 

The  Great,  the  Good,  the  Wise,  the  Just, 
Trust  Him,  and  we  need  never  fear, 

Though  these  frail  bodies  fall  to  dust. 
10* 


114       THE      SCEPTIC     AND     THE      BELIEVER, 

The  cords  that  lead  the  lightning's  wing, 

Worn  out,  may  break,  and  useless  lie, 
But  it  will  still  its  message  bring, 

And  speak  in  thunders  from  the  sky. 
So  shall  the  spirit  ever  be  ; 

When  these  dull  cords  that  bind  are  riven, 
'Twill  float  up  on  its  pinions  free, 

To  taste  the  purer  bliss  of  heaven. 


THE     SPIRIT'S     WING 


MY  mother  Earth,  I  gaze  around, 
Upon  the  beauty  of  thy  face, 

And  see  thee  by  the  seasons  crowned, 
As  if  to  vie  with  each  in  grace, 

And  feel,  thou  art  a  goodly  land, 

And  thy  proportions,  vast  and  grand. 


With  gentle  hill,  and  fertile  plain  ; 

Sweet  perfume-breathing  southern  gale  ; 
Majestic  mountain,  rolling  main  ; 

With  flowery  mead,  and  blooming  vale  : 
Though  sin  hath  blighted,  from  thy  birth, 
Thou  still  art  beautiful,  O  Earth. 


116  THE    SPIRIT'S    WING. 

But,  gazing  on  the  starry  sky, 

No  more  thy  charms  I  may  rehearse  ; 

Thou  art,  'mid  shining  orbs  on  high, 
An  atom  in  the  universe  ; 

Upon  creation's  map  a  dot, 

That  scarce  were  missed,  if  it  were  not. 


Leverrier's  mighty  sweep  we  leave, 

And  in  the  vast  expanse  behold, 
In  distance  we  cannot  conceive, 

Worlds  heaped  on  worlds  their  charms  unfold, 
Whose  blended  light,  in  one  broad  ray, 
Streams  down,  and  forms  the  milky  way. 


And  far  beyond  the  utmost  bound 

To  telescopic  vision  given, 
Float,  doubtless,  worlds  through  space  profound, 

In  clustering  beauty's  boundless  heaven  ; 
Where  fancy,  touched  by  mortal  sin, 
In  wildest  flight  hath  never  been. 


THE    SPIRIT'S    WING.  117 

How  reels  the  dizzy  brain  with  thought 
Whose  amplitude  may  well  o'erwhelm, 

As,  pressing  on,  the  mind  finds  naught 
But  an  expanding,  boundless  realm, 

Whose  endless  depth  is  the  adode 

Of  its  Almighty  Ruler,  God  ! 


But,  contemplations  such  as  these, 
Are  unfledged  pinions  of  the  soul ; 

Whose  wings,  ere  long,  shall  soar  with  ease — 
If  faith,  and  hope,  the  life  control — 

To  those  bright  realms  of  fadeless  youth— 

The  blissful  home  of  love  and  truth. 


LELIA 


IN    THREE    PARTS. 


LELI  A 


PART   I, 


11 


L    E.    L    I    A  . 


Part  I. 


THE  stars  are  out  in  heaven !     How  the  soul 
Expands  while  gazing  on  their  silver  light ! 
I've  watched  them,  looking  from  their  silent  home 
In  quiet  loveliness,  until  I  felt 
That  I  could  almost  break  the  quivering  chain 
That  holds  me  to  this  dull  and  blighted  orb, 
And  soar  away,  as  fancy  on  her  wing 
Now  leaves  the  burning  home  that  gives  it  birth, 
To  revel  in  their  unknown  mysteries. 


Come,  let  us  go  abroad  to-night,  and  taste 
The  soul-entrancing  bliss,  that  seems  to  steal 
Like  far-off  melodies  upon  the  heart. 


124  L  E  L  I  A. 

The  full-orbed  moon  is  kindling  in  the  sky ; 
Her  rays  are  dancing  on  the  crested  wave, 
And  sleeping  softly  on  yon  sloping  hill, 
And  creeping  through  the  rustling  foliage, 
Like  fairies  sporting  on  the  chequered  ground. 
There  are  some  wrecks  of  Eden  lingering  still, 
That  woo  us  with  their  beauty. 


In  this  grove, 

That  whispers  softly  to  the  murmuring  stream, 
Let  us  repose  awhile.     Its  sacred  haunts 
Were  once  the  scene  of  more  than  earthly  love. 
'Twas  here  fair  Lelia  gave  her  virgin  heart 
To  Lelan  of  the  wild  and  woodland  dell,        N 
She  was  too  fair  for  earth.     I  see  her  now, 
As  when  she  used  to  trip  across  the  lawn, 
And  pluck  the  wild  flowers  in  her  path-way  strewh- 
Herself  the  sweetest,  loveliest  of  them  all. 
The  fairest  rose  would  suffer  by  her  cheek ; 
And  when  she  lifted  up  her  pensive  eyes, 
There  beamed  a  beauty  from  their  quiet  depths 
That  stirred  the  heart  to  worship.     None  in  whom 
There  glowed  a  spark  of  nature's  fire  could  look 
Upon  her  faultless  form,  and  fail  to  love. 


L  £  L  I  A  .  125 

No  wonder,  then,  than  Lelan,  in  whose  breast 

The  wildest  passion  for  the  beautiful 

Was  nursed  from  childhood's  earliest  morn,  should  love*. 

He  roved  adventurous  among  the  hills, 

And  drank  the  gushing  beauty  of  the  morn, 

While  seated  on  some  lone  and  lofty  peak  ; 

And  lingered,  when  the  evening  hour  came  on, 

To  watch  the  sun,  slow  sinking  in  the  west, 

Where  oft  he  veils  himself  behind  the  clouds, 

As  they  were  curtains  for  his  night's  repose. 

His  form  was  manly  ;  in  his  eye  there  slept 

A  melancholy  light;  and  on  his  brow 

Reposed  the  dignity  of  lofty  thought. 

His  heart  was  full  of  gentle  sympathies, 

And  melted  at  the  slightest  touch,  and  poured, 

Like  mountain  springs,  its  gushing  waters  on 

The  barren  waste:  but  when  its  depths  were  stirred, 

The  tide  of  feeling  wildly  rushed  along, 

Like  the  mad  heavings  of  the  ocean  surge. 


One  eve,  when  nature  wore  her  loveliest  smile, 
He  saw  fair  Lelia  glide  into  her  bower ; 
And,  lingering  near,  though  unobserved,  he  Heard 
The  soft  strains  of  her  lute,  as  thus  she  sung  : 
11* 


126  L  E  L  I  A. 

"  It  is  sweet  to  repose  in  my  own  pretty  bower, 
While  the  stars  are  all  watching  above, 

But  a  loneliness  steals  o'er  my  heart  at  this  hour  ; 
For  what  is  this  life  without  love  ? 

All  nature  is  beautiful  now  to  my  eye, 

Yet  my  thoughts  from  its  beauty  will  rove, 

And  my  heart,  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  heaves  a  sigh  ; 
For  what  is  this  life  without  love  ? 

The  proud  and  the  noble  to  heaven  have  vowed, 
At  my  feet,  their  pure  passion  to  prove  ; 

But  my  heart  was  untouched  by  their  words  as  they  bowed; 
For  what  is  this  life  without  love  ? 

The  heart  that  I  love  must  be  full  of  emotion, 

Yet  as  gentle  and  mild  as  a  dove, 
And  love  as  my  own,  with  a  depth  of  devotion  ; 

For  what  is  this  life  without  love  ?" 


Scarce  had  the  strains  died  on  his  spell-bound  ear, 
Ere  he  had  clasped  her  trembling  hand,  and  knelt 
Empassioned  at  her  feet.     But  we  must  drop 
The  veil  around  them  here.     It  is  not  meet 
That  we  should  gaze  upon  a  scene  like  this  ; 


L  E  L  I  A  .  127 

When  kindred  spirits,  in  the  first  wild  flush, 
That  rasnes  like  a  torrent  o'er  the  soul, 
Give  up  their  hearts  to  pure  and  holy  love. 

Doubt  as  we  may,  there  is  a  heaven-born  love 
That  comes  upon  the  heart,  as  much  unsought 
As  its  pulsation  ;  breaking  through  the  forms 
And  fetters  thrown  around  it  by  the  world  ; 
And,  like  the  comet,  rushes  madly  on, 
Regardless  of  the  placid  orbs  that  shine, 
And  smile,  in  their  bright  spheres,  along  its  path, 
To  its  own  home  of  bliss. 

And  who  shall  say 

The  stars  have  not  their  loves,  as  well  as  birds  ! 
Or,  that  the  ocean  does  not  palpitate 
With  joy,  when  wooed  by  its  fair  spouse,  the  moon  ! 
Or  that  the  blushing  flower  feels  not  a  thrill 
Of  rapture,  in  the  morning  sun-beam's  kiss  ! 

She  gave  her  heart  to  Lelan  ;  — no  slight  boon  ; — 
And  well  he  prized  the  gift. 

They  oft  were  seen, 
In  their  light  skiff,  to  glide  along  the  stream, 


128  L  E  L  I  A  . 

Beneath  the  overhanging  rocks  and  boughs, 

Where  not  a  sound,  except  the  light  oar's  dip, 

The  quiet,  dreamy  hum  of  stillness  broke. 

"  My  gentle  one" — he  said  :  and  pressed  her  close, 

With  tremulous  emotion  to  his  breast ; 

Gazing  upon  her  fair  and  tranquil  brow, 

On  which  he  smoothed  the  soft  and  loosened  tress 

With  which  the  breeze  was  playing — "  dost  thou  love 

This  quiet  scene  ?     It  is  to  me  so  like 

A  dream  of  heaven,  I  almost  fear  to  speak, 

Lest  I  may  break  the  spell :  my  cup  is  full 

Of  bliss  :  it  is  enough  :  I  ask  no  more. 

And  yet,  a  sadness  comes  upon  my  heart, 

To  think  it  cannot  last.     No,  Lelia,  no  ! 

It  is  a  dream  from  which  we  must  awake  ; 

The  world's  rude  jar  will  startle  us  ere  long 

With  its  eternal  change.     But  it  must  come  ! 

A  few  short  years,  at  best,  must  close  the  scene  ! 

It  is  the  stern  decree  from  which  there  can 

Be  no  appeal.     These  solid  rocks  must  yield  ! 

The  lightning  fires  shall  sear  and  rend  these  hills  ! 

This  spacious  dome  shall  kindle,  rock,  and  fall  ! 

And  Time  himself,  so  long  relentless,  furl 

His  worn  and  jaded  pinions,  motionless 

To  sleep  forever,  on  the  changeless  sea 

Of  undisturbed  duration  ! 


L  E  L  I  A  .  129 

We  must  then 

Look  on,  beyond  this  life,  for  happiness 
Unchecked  by  this  foreboding  fear  of  change. 
This  world  allows  us  but  to  taste  a  few 
Such  hours  as  this,  to  lure  us  on  to  heaven. 
What  dost  thou  think,  my  Lelia,  is  it  so  ?" 


She,  musing,  gazed  in  silence  for  awhile, 
As  if  her  spirit,  from  its  wanderings, 
Was  loath  to  be  recalled.     Then  lifting  up 
Her  lustrous  eyes,  to  which  her  thoughts  had  called 
The  beauty  of  a  trembling  tear,  replied: 
"  Yes,  Lelan,  it  is  true  !     I  know  it  well ! 
For,  this  poor  heart  has  felt,  from  its  young  years, 
The  careless  hand  of  Time  upon  its  strings, 
Disturbing  strangely  all  their  harmony, 
And  breaking  them  asunder,  one  by  one. 
A  mother, — then  a  father, — rudely  torn 
From  my  young  heart !  and  I  was  left,  a  lone 
And  fragile  thing,  upon  the  wide  world's  waste, 
To  guide  my  bark  upon  the  unknown  sea 
Of  human  life.     Nor  need  I  stop  to  tell 
How  near  to  being  wrecked  it  oft  hath  been  ; 
It  is  a  common  tale.     The  wonder  is 
That  it  was  not,  and  not  that  thousands  are. 


130  L  E  L  I  A. 

Nor  need  I  tell  of  blighted  hopes  and  joys  ; 

Of  disappointments  that  have  crushed  the  heart ; 

Of  pride,  deceit,  neglect,  and  all  the  ills, 

And  wrongs,  that  dull  the  generous  soul  of  youth, 

Shut  up  the  heart,  and  chill  the  very  blood, 

And  make  us  doubt  that  such  a  thing  as  truth, 

Unselfish  act,  or  deed,  is  to  be  found  ; 

It  is  the  lot  of  all  to  suffer  thus  ; 

And  fearfully  it  told  upon  my  heart 

Thou  knowest  full  well ;  when  I  could  doubt  thy  truth, 

As  oft  I  did  ;  and  listen  to  thy  voice,  unmoved ; 

And  trifle  with  thy  pure  and  holy  love, 

As  though  it  were  a  light  and  trivial  thing. 

But  when  thy  gentle  spirit,  worn  and  chafed, 

Rose  up  in  its  proud  strength,  resolved  to  break 

Its  chains,  and  waited  but  a  single  word  : — 

I  could  not  lose  thee,  no  ! — Forgive  me,  love  ! — 

My  heart  was  thine — I  feared  not  thee — the  world. 

That,  in  its  everchanging  scenes,  it  would 

Allure  thee  from  me,  and  my  heart  be  left 

All  lone  and  broken.     But  I  knew  thee  not, 

As  I  do  now.    This  world  may  do  its  worst — 

It  cannot  last ; — we  look  for  little  here. 

But  love  like  ours,  I'm  sure,  can  never  die  ! 

And,  oh  !  when  we  shall  meet  in  some  bright  sphere, 

Far  circling  through  the  still,  blue  depths  of  heaven, 


L  E  L  I  A  .  131 

Where  every  wish,  will  be  a  rushing  wing", 
And  every  thought,  a  bright  and  rustling  plume 
To  bear  us  to  its  full  fruition  ;  then, 
Surrounded  by  the  beauty  and  the  bloom, 
Of  more  than  Eden's  primal  loveliness, 
Will  we,  in  some  fair  bower,  that  we  will  name 
The  lover's  home,  be  happy  in  our  love, 
Forever  and  forever. 


But  while  here, 

We  have  a  duty  which  we  should  perform, 
If  we  would  hope  for  happiness  above. 
The  poor  and  wretched  are  on  every  hand  ; 
The  world  is  full  of  suffering  and  sin  : 
Let  us  resolve  to  do  what  good  we  can 
For  frail  humanity,  that  it  may  lie 
As  a  protecting  mantle  o'er  our  own." 

She  ceased :— and  Lelan   thus  : — "  My   heart's   sole 

queen  ! 

Thou  art  a  peerless  one  !  O,  that  the  world 
Had  more  such  noble  hearts  as  thine,  to  warm 
Its  frigid  bosom  !     Soon  would  it  revive 
From  its  long  night  of  torpor  and  of  gloom, 
As  earth,  beneath  the  genial  warmth  of  spring. 


132  L  E  L  I  A. 

Sad  as  it  is,  there  are  some  sunny  spots 

Along  our  path,  that  make  us  cling  to  life 

E'en  now.     Existence  hath,  for  all,  some  charm. 

It  is  so  sweet,  at  times,  to  live,  and  move, 

And  breathe  the  balmy  air  ;  to  feel  the  flush 

Of  health  excite  the  lithe  and  active  limbs, 

While  the  warm  blood  goes  thrilling  through  the  veins. 

But  if  oppression  once  were  shaken  from 

Its  proud,  despotic  throne  ;  injustice  hurled 

From  its  accustomed  seat ;  and  avarice, 

(Congealed  to  polar  ice,)  thawed  down  and  warmed ; 

The  human  mind  enlightened  and  set  free 

From  superstition  gross,  and  error  wild  ; 

And  man  raised  up  to  his  true  dignity, 

Redeemed  and  happy  here,  with  a  sure  hope 

Of  never-ending  happiness  in  heaven  ; 

Then  would  life  have  a  charm,  that  well  might  bring 

The  pure  and  holy  ones  from  other  worlds, 

As  guests  to  mingle  in  its  pleasing  scenes. 

Oh  !  what  a  fearful  weight  is  resting  on 

The  rich  and  proud  oppressors  of  mankind  ! 

It  is  an  easy  thing  for  those  who  own 

Of  this  world's  goods,  a  full  and  generous  store, 

To  talk  about  economy  and  thrift, 

And  teach  the  poor  how  fortunes  may  be  made, 

By  persevering  toil  from  day  to  day, 


L  E  L  *>  A.  133 

And  saving  from  their  very  life  their  gains. 
But,  oh!  they  little  know,  much  less  they  feel, 
The  true  condition  of  the  suffering  poor; 
Whose  whole  existence  is  one  constant  strife 
With  all  the  nobler  feelings  of  the  soul ; 
And  day  hy  day  hut  sinks  them  deeper  down 
The  yawning,  rayless,  cheerless,  changeless  gulf! 
Why  should  this  bitter  curse  be  left  to  hang, 
Like  a  dead  weight,  upon  their  very  life  ; 
Crushing  alike  their  feelings,  sympathies, 
And  every  generous  impulse  in  their  breast ; 
Searing  their  conscience,  withering,  like  a  blight, 
The  lingering  germ  of  their  humanity  ? 
Thus  doomed  and  hopeless,  their  condition  is 
A  libel  on  their  nature.     Why  should  they 
Possess  a  generous  impulse  in  their  breast, 
But  to  recoil  upon  itself  and  wound  ? 
The  noblest  traits  of  their  humanity 
Add  keenness  to  their  sorrow.     What  if  some 
Are  demons  !     Man,  not  God,  has  made  them  so. 
They  once  were  innocent,  and  might  have  been, 
But  for  the  wrong,  oppression,  and  neglect 
Of  their  own  kind,  as  happy  as  the  best. 

Blame  not  that  man,  but  rather  pity  him, 
Who,  overwhelmed  beneath  the  withering  blight 
12 


134  L  E  L  I  A  . 

Of  hopeless,  helpless,  wretched  poverty, 

Grasps  in  his  hand  the  maddening  bowl,  and  steeps 

His  soul  in  its  oblivious  dregs,  until 

His  dull  and  stupid  eye  fears  not  to  brook, 

Without  a  sense  of  shame,  the  heartless  gaze 

Of  those  around  him. 

Nor  too  harshly  deal, 

Without  one  thought  upon  the  cause  of  crime, 
With  him,  who,  rather  than  submit  to  live 
A  poor  and  humble  drudge,  unwisely  seeks, 
By  stealth  or  fraud,  to  lift  himself  above 
The  chilly  sphere  of  want. 

Nor  yet  with  him, 

Who  dares  to  break  the  law  of  God  and  man, 
And  bathe  his  murderous  hands  in  human  blood, 
Without  inquiring  what  he  might  have  been 
Had  kindness  thrown  its  toils  around  his  heart, 
In  earlier  years. 

But  how  shall  he  endure 

The  shock,  who  once  possessed  a  happy  home, 
Surrounded  by  the  comforts  of  this  life  ; 
And  from  his  little  circle  sent  around 
The  radiations  of  his  generous  heart! 


L  E  L  I  A  .  135 

His  little  ones,  as  joyous  as  the  birds 
That  carol  forth  their  happy  lays  in  spring, 
Would  haste  to  meet  him,  at  his  near  approach, 
Directed  by  the  quicker  eye  of  her 
Who  felt  no  pleasure  marred  at  his  return, 
And  leap  upon  his  knee,  and  shout  with  joy, 
While  she,  with  matron  dignity,  looked  on 
Her  stay  and  hopes,  with  joy  as  deep,  but  calm, 
And  from  her  full  heart  smiled. 


Misfortune  came, 
As  if  in  very  envy  of  their  bliss, 
And  dashed  the  cup  away,  which  seemed  too  full ; 
And  that  bright  home  is  desolate. 

At  first, 

The  withering  sense  of  reputation  lost 
O'erwhelmed.     Then  justice  to  his  fellow  man 
Knocked  lo.udly  at  his  heart.     And  then  his  home, 
And  those  dear  ones  that  looked  to  him  for  bread, 
Passed  in  review  before  his  mind,  and  chilled, 
Aye,  froze  the  very  life-blood  in  his  veins. 
Thrown  out  upon  the  world,  to  meet  its  rude 
And  chilling  taunts,  reproached  perhaps  by  those 
Whose  hands  were  always  open  to  receive 


136  L  E  L  I  A  . 

The  proffered  kindness.     What  must  be  his  strength 
Of  moral  courage  to  withstand  the  shock 
Unscathed  !     Must  she  whose  slender  form  ne'er  knew 
The  weight  of  toil,  become  a  patient  drudge  ; 
And  those  dear  ones,  so  lately  full  of  joy, 
So  happy  in  their  quiet,  peaceful  home, 
Be  sent  adrift  to  meet  the  rude  address 
Of  pampered  insolence  or  bloated  pride, 
When  they,  all  trembling,  seek  for  honest  toil  ? 
Is  it  in  human  nature  to  endure 
All  this,  without  a  mortifying  sense 
^Of  degradation  ?     No,  it  cannot  be  ; 
The  sensitive  shrink  back  from  it  appalled  ; 
The  stoutest  quail  beneath  its  withering  touch. 
Is  there  no  means  by  which  this  demon  Fear 
May  be  forced  back  within  his  squalid  lair, 
And  man  be  left  unfettered  to  walk  forth 
In  his  true  dignity  ?     Remove  this  fear 
Of  poverty,  and  you  remove  the  cause 
Of  almost  every  crime.     Here  is  the  field, 
Philanthropists,  that  claims  your  patient  toil ; 
The  physical  condition  of  mankind 
Demands  amelioration  at  your  hands. 
How  can  you  hope  to  mend  man's  moral  state 
While'  mind  and  body  both  are  held  in  thrall ! 
First  nurse  the  plant  to  health,  and  then  engraft. 


L  E  L  I  A  .  137 

How  often  are  we  told,  when  we  despond, 
To  think,  how  many  thousands  suffer  more  ! 
Is  it  a  source  from  whence  to  draw  support 
And  consolation,  that  our  fellow  man 
Is  suffering  more  than  we  ?  and  shall  we  then, 
Lift  up  our  hands  in  thanks  to  God  because 
We  are  more  favored  at  his  hands  ?     Away  ' 
With  such  presumption  !  tell  us  not  that  God, 
Who  bids  the  rain  to  fall  alike  on  all, 
Is  partial.     This  is  man's  sad  work,  alone. 
God  knows,  there  is  enough  in  this  wide  world 
For  all,  and  yet  are  there  not  many  men 
Who  would  reach  forth  their  hands  and  grasp  the  whole, 
Aye,  grasp  and  keep  it,  too,  if  their  own  will 
Could  do  the  deed  ? 


Perchance  it  was  the  sin 
Of  our  first  parents  in  their  Eden  home  ; 
For  they  were  happy  there,  until  they  sought 
To  be  more  happy  still,  and  thus  lost  all. 
And  how  could  He  who  planned  and  made  them  so, 
And  bid  them  so  remain,  but  frown  upon 
The  impious  act  of  disobedience, 
Impeaching  thus  his  wisdom  and  his  power ! 
12* 


138  L  E  L  I  A  . 

I  would  not  have  the  heart  of  steel  that  throbs 
In  some  men's  bosoms,  for  a  world  of  gold. 
That  man  who  thanks  no  Being  for  his  life, 
Who  breathes  the  air,  drinks  of  the  purling  streams, 
Fares  sumptuously  upon  the  bounteous  earth, 
Lives  for  himself,  regardless  of  his  kind, 
Who  gets  and  holds  wealth  for  itself  alone, 
And  makes  it  pander  to  his  greedy  lust 
For  more,  is,  though  the  world  may  call  him  just, 
A  robber  on  God's  heritage  to  man, 
And  will  be  so  regarded,  when  the  light 
Shall  break  effulgent  on  the  human  mind, 
And  man  shall  feel  and  know  his  true  estate. 
Be  mine  the  task  to  throw  one  fagot  on 
The  slumbering  embers  ;  that  the  world  may  say, 
When  I  am  gone,  "  'twas  better  that  he  lived." 
How  lone  must  be  th'e  grave  of  him  for  whom 
No  human  being  has  a  sigh  or  tear  ! 


Here  in  this  wild  sequestered  spot,  away 
From  all  the  noise  and  strife  of  busy  men, 
Might  we,  a  little  world  within  ourselves, 
Where  love  alone  should  rule  with  gentle  sway, 
Roam  pleasantly  among  its  quiet  scenes, 
Unnoticed  by  the  world,  and  spend  our  lives 


L  E  L  I  A  .  139 

Delightfully,  and  smoothly  glide  along      ;  -  . 
Life's  waveless  stream,  until  we  floated  out 
Into  the  ocean  of  eternity: 
But,  Lelia,  duty  points,  and  I  must  go  : 
Though  from  thy  presence  it  may  guide  me  far, 
Thou  shalt  for  ever  be  my  ruling  star." 


"  Yes,  go,"  fair  Lelia  tremblingly  replied  : 
"  Thy  noble  purpose  and  resolve,  my  heart 
Commends  and  niind  approves ;  but  not  alone  ; 
I  will  go  with  thee,  for  I  cannot  spare 
Thee  from  my  heart ;  besides,  thy  spirit  needs 
My  fostering  hand  ;  it  is  too  sensitive 
To  meet  and  brook  the  rudeness  of  the  world. 
The  bigoted  will  hold  thee  in  contempt ; 
The  skeptic's  sneer,  the  proud  one's  haughty  scorn, 
Will  try  thee  sore ;  and  ignorance  will  look 
With  its  unmeaning  eye  ;  the  thoughtless  wound 
With  careless  speech  ;  and  dullness  will  weigh  down, 
With  its  stdpidity,  the  heart  like  lead. 
When  all  around  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  drear  ; 
Thy  spirit,  weary  with  its  thankless  toil, 
Turns  sick  away,  oppressed  with  doubt  and  gloom  ; 
Shall  not  thy  Lelia's  bosom  pillow  then 
Thy  aching  brow,  and  cheer  thee  with  its  truth  ? 


140  L  E  L  I  A  . 

Deem  not  that  woman  has  no  task  assigned 
In  this  great  work :  hut  still  I  freely  own 
She  poorly  plays  her  part :  the  destiny 
Of  nations,  aye,  the  world,  is  in  her  hands. 
Like  Him  whose  spirit  moved  upon  the  void, 
And  moulded  young  creation,  she  broods  o'er 
The  chaos  of  the  infant  world  of  mind, 
And  moulds  it  surely  with  her  plastic  hand. 
How  great  the  trust  committed  to  her  charge  ! 
What  grand,  sublime,  ineffable  results 
Are  in  her  keeping  !     Yet  she  little  feels, 
Or  knows,  or  uses  this  stupendous  power, 
Before  which  kings  are  nothing,  as  she  ought. 
Oh,  how  does  ignorance  weigh  down  the  soul 
With  its  incomparable  weight  of  woe  ! 
How  much  that  is  endured,  need  not  be  borne, 
If  all  could  see  aright  the  common  bond 
Of  fellowship  that  should  unite  them  here  ; 
And  know  that  none,  however  rich  or  great, 
Is  independent  of  his  fellow  man  ; 
And  act  upon  the  plainest  principles 
Of  common  sense,  that,  in  the  happiness 
Of  others,  each,  alone,  may  find  his  own  ! 

Yes,  I  will  leave  these  pleasant  hills  and  vales, 
The  music  of  this  gentle  murmuring  stream, 


L  E  L  I  A  .  141 

These  walks,  and  lawns,  and  flowers,  and  trees,  and  birds, 

That  have  so  oft  beguiled  my  girl  hood's  hours  ; 

My  cottage  home,  the  dearest  spot  on  earth — 

Leave  all,  and  go  with  thee,  that  I  may  share 

Thy  toils  and  triumphs  ;  for  my  spirit  swells 

And  kindles  at  the  thought  of  aiding  in 

A  work,  so  fraught  with  blessings  to  our  race." 

She  looked  to  see  if  Lelan's  eye  approved : 
It  rested  thoughtfully  upon  the  ground  : 
And  musing  thus  he  stood,  until  a  tear 
Stole  up  and  dimmed  his  gaze  ;  then  clasping  her 
Close  to  his  throbbing  breast,  in  silence  wept. 
And  fearful  was  the  struggle  for  a  time 
That  swayed  distractingly  his  wavering  mind. 
There  are  those  moments  when  the  best  stand  poised, 
And  hesitate  a  while  which  path  to  choose  ; 
The  rugged  one  of  duty,  or,  of  ease. 
At  length,  with  firmness  in  his  tone,  he  said : 

"  It  cannot  be,  my  loved  and  gentle  one  ; 
Thy  life  is  far  too  precious  in  my  sight, 
To  peril  madly  thus.     Thou  art  a  pearl 
Of  too  much  worth,  so  recklessly  to  risk 
In  far  off,  rude,  and  uncongenial  climes. 


H2  L  E  L  I  A. 

'Tis  but  a  special  mission  calls  me  hence — 

A  year  or  two,  and  then  I  will  return 

On  love's  swift  wings,  with  bounding  heart,  to  thee. 

'Tis  hard  to  leave  the  scenes  of  early  youth, 

Where  I  have  spent  so  many  happy  hours  ; 

My  home,  and  all  the  friends  I  love  so  well ;      * 

But,  oh  !  to  tear  myself  away  from  thee, 

Demands  a  sacrifice  almost  too  great 

For  this  poor  heart  to  make.     Yet  I  submit, 

Believing  as  I  do,  that  He  who  guides, 

With  an  unerring  hand  the  universe, 

Will  rule  this  feeble  act  to  some  good  end. 

o 

And  thou,  my  generous,  noble  hearted  one, 
Whose  spirit  dares  so  much  to  serve  our  race, 
Shalt  find  enough  for  thy  fair  hands  to  do 
Around  thee  here.     I  leave  tjiee  in  the  midst 
Of  ignorance,  so  wilful  and  perverse, 
So  steeped  in  selfishness,  conceit,  and  pride, 
That  sooner  would  I  take  the  darkest  mind 
That  ever  groped  amid  its  pagan  gods, 
And  hope  to  ope  its  portals  to  the  light 
Of  reason  and ^of  truth,  by  far,  than  it. 
Almost  a  hopeless  task !    But  there  is  still 
An  ample  field  in  which  thy  heart  may  find 
Full  scope  for  all  its  generous  sympathies." 


L  E  L  I  A  .  143 

And  thus  they  talked.     And  Lelan  lingered  long. 
While  Lelia,  loath  to  let  him  go  so  soon, 
Although  she  struggled  to  conceal  the  gloom 
That  gathered,  like  a  dreary  winter  cloud, 
Around  her  heart,  looked  sad,  and  yet  she  smiled : 
But  'twas  the  smile  of  sorrow,  not  of  joy. 
As  fell  disease  sends  up  the  flush  of  health 
In  mockery  upon  the  cheek,  it  came        ,  - 
Deep  laden  from  the  troubled  heart,  and  played 
In  melancholy  beauty  on  her  lip. 
She  almost  felt  that  she  could  win  him  back 
From  his  high  purpose.     And  an  easy  task 
It  would  have  been.  Their  minds  were  right;  their  hearts 
They  dare*not  trust. 


Oh  !  blame  them  not,  but  say, 
Would  you  have  done  as  well  ?      Have  sacrificed 
So  much  of  ease,  of  love,  of  bliss,  to  serve 
Disinterestedly  your  fellow  man? 
The  mass  of  mankind,  in  this  selfish  world, 
Do  not  act  thus.     The  heart,  and  not  the  head, 
Rules  nearly  all  the  acts  of  men — impulse — ' 
Not  reason.     This  is  wrong.     The  mind  should  rule. 
The  heart's  the  source  of  error,  not  the  mind. 


144  L  E  L  I  A  . 

The  time  at  length  arrived  that  must  decide 
Which  power  controlled  their  pure  and  generous  souls. 
It  came  too  soon.      How  swift  the  flight  of  time 
JVVhen  Ibvers  would  restrain  its  rushing  wings  ! 
But,  conscious  of  the  duties  it  enjoined, 
They  met  it  firmly,  though  With  sinking  hearts. 
In  trembling  accents  Lelan  broke  the  spell 
That  sealed  their  lips,  and  thus,  his  last  farewell : 

.    "  Thou  art,  indeed,  with  me  to-night ; 

Thy  warm  cheek  rests  upon  my  own  ; 
But  ere  to-morrow's  kindling  light, 
Shall  veil  his  beauty  from  my  sight, 

My  heart  will  be  how  lone  ! 

In  yon  frail  bark,  borne  from  the  west, 

My  throbbing  head  I  must  recline, 
Far  on  the  ocean's  stormy  breast, 
Rocked  by  its  heaving  waves  to  rest, 
As  thou  art  now,  on  mine. 

My  eye  will  miss  my  gentle  one, 
And  try  to  catch  a  glimpse,  in  vain, 

Of  this  fair  land  whence  I  have  gone, 

But  find  nought  else  to  rest  upon, 
Except  the  sky  and  main. 


L  E  L  I  A  .  145 

And  I  will  lean  my  head  and  seek 

To  hear  thy  soft  familiar  tone, 
Borne  on  the  breeze,  some  message  speak, 
But  hear  instead  the  wild  winds  shriek, 

And  ocean's  hollow  moan. 


But  though  I  leave  my  land  behind, 

And  from  my  dearest  treasure  part, 
'Tis  sweet  to  know  my  active  mind 
Can  look  within  my  breast  and  find 
Thy  image  on  my  heart. 


When  far  away  from  home  and  thee, 

In  other  lands,  or  on  the  wave  ; 
Wilt  thou  bestow  a  thought  on  me, 
And  ask  while  on  thy  bended  knee, 
That  He  may  bless  and  save  ? 


I  feel  thy  arm  more  closely  twined  ; — 
I  doubted  not  thy  love  and  truth  ;  — 
An  idle  thought,  thrown  to  the  wind. 
That  in  my  breast  no  place  could  find— 

A  mere  impulse  of  youth. 
13 


146  L  E  L  I  A  . 

Pry  up  these  tears  that  fall  so  fast, 

Dispel  these  dark  foreboding  fears, 
A  gloom  upon  my  heart  'twould  cast, 
To  think  that  when  I  saw  thee  last, 
Thine  eyes  were  wet  with  tears. 


Our  duty  here  we  must  fulfil,. 

As  far  as  to  us  may  be  given  ; 
Though  now  we  part  for  good  or  ill, 
We'll  meet  again,  I'm  sure  we  will, 

If  not  on  earth,  in  heaven. 


If  here  again,  our  hearts  will  leap 

With  joy  our  lips  cannot  declare  ; 
But,  oh  !  to  meet  where  angels  keep 
Their  vigils  o'er  no  eyes  that  weep  ; 
It  will  be  rapture  there. 


To  mountain  slope  and  wild-wood  shade, 

And  gentle  stream,  and  lonely  dell, 
To  mead  and  vale,  where  I  have  strayed, 
And  with  light  heart,  in  youth  have  played, 
I  now  must  bid  farewell. 


L  E  L  I  A  .  147 

And  thou  who  art  my  life  and  light ; 

My  polar  star,  forever  true ; 
My  sun,  without  whose  beams  'twere  night; 
My  own,  my  beautiful  and  bright ; 

My  fondly  loved  ;  -adieu  ! 


When  evening  stills  the  rude  world's  jar, 
And  cloudless  smile  yon  fields  of  blue ; 
Thy  spirit  wing  to  yon  bright  star, 
And  mine  will  meet  it  from  afar, 
And  each  fond  pledge  renew. 


And  thus,  upon  its  placid  face — 

As  lovers  love  to  meet  unseen — 
Our  souls,  o'erloaping  time  and  space, 
Will  mingle  still  in  fond  embrace, 
Though  oceans  roll  between. 


I  leave  thee  now,  but  ere  I  go, 

Be  this, — our  constancy  to  prove, — 
A  thrilling  seal,  that  we  well  know 
None  else  can  trace,  or  e'er  bestow, — 
A  holy  pledge  of  love. 


148  L  E  L  I  A  . 

Farewell — may  blessings,  like  the  dew 

That  falls  upon  the  grateful  flower, 
Rest  on  thee,  and  thy  strength  renew, 
And  angels  guard  thy  footsteps  too 
From  harm,  each  passing  hour  !" 


A  moment  more,  in  silence,  they  remained  ; — 
But  eyes  can  speak  more  eloquent  by  far 
Than  any  human  tongue  ;  and  theirs  discoursed 
Of  tenderest  emotions,  hope,  and  love,    •    • 
Until,  with  hands  they  waved  the  heart's  farewell. 

*  V. 

How  much  of  life  is  crowded  in  a  few 
Brief  moments  here,  of  joy,  of  wo  ;  the  rest, 
Is  blank  monotony,  sustained  by  hope  ; — 
Endurance,  by  anticipation  fed  ; 
While  silently,  though  sure,  Time  does  its  work, 
And  Death,  in  mercy  comes,  to  close  the  scene  ! 


LELI  A 


PART   II, 


13* 


L    E    L    I    A  . 


Part  II, 


'TWAS  Autumn.    O'er  the  earth  its  spirit  hung 
Upon  its  brooding  wings  ;  .and,  as  it  moved 
Apace,  the  forest  caught  the  rainbow  tints 
Thrown  o'er  it  by  the  lustre  of  its  plumes. 
The  sky  was  tinged  with  a  soft  mellow  haze 
That  seemed  to  float  upon  the  dreamy  air, 
Like  pleasing  visions  circling  round  the  couch 
Of  pensive  beauty  ere  it  drops  to  sleep. 


The  winter  hath  its  revels,  but  to  me 
They  seem  like  festivals  around  the  dead. 
Spring  gushes  forth  in  freshness  on  the  earth, 
And  kindles  up  the  fading  fires  of  hope  ; 


152  Lr  E  L  I  A  . 

And,  passing  dull  indeed  must  be  that  one 

Whose  heart  does  not  dilate  amid  its  youth, 

Its  bloom  and  beauty.     Yet,  the  stricken  heart 

Will  tremble  still  for  all  its  promises. 

And  summer  comes  all  flushed  with  unclaimed  wealth 

Upon  its  teeming  bosom,  lavishing 

Its  charms  in  drunken  wantonness,  until, 

With  sated  senses  sickened,  we  withdraw 

From  its  hot  breath,  and  brilliant  flashing  eye. 

But  Autumn, — oh,  America,  thine  own, 

Unrivalled  in  its  beauty  !— softly  smiles, 

Unclasps  her  generous  hand,  and  kindly  pours,     .  * 

With  solemn  admonitions,  all  her  stores 

Upon  her  needy  children. 


Come  with  me 

Again  to  Lelia's  bower:  for,  I  do  love, 
Beneath  the  autumn's  dusky  sky  to  rove, 
Far  in  the  silent  woods,  and  watch  the  leaves 
Drop  off,  and  circle  slowly  to  the  ground, 
And  stir  them,  lying  loosely  round  my  feet. 
I,  too,  as  one  of  these,  ere  long  must  fall, 
And  mingle,  undistinguished,  dust  with  dust. 
It  is  a  time  and  place  for  solemn  thought. 
And  hither  Lelia  came  to  muse  awhile, 


L  E  L  I  A  .  •  153 

*    •       .•  .  ^ 

Amid  the  stillness  of  the  quiet  grove, 

But  more,  perchance,  upon  familiar  scenes 

To  gaze,  endeared  by  many  a  happy  hour 

Long  since  gone  by,  but  treasured  in  the  shrine 

Of  fadeless  memory.  ,    „ 


Her  cheek  was  pale, 
Yet  lovely  as  the  autumn's  fading  hues, 
And  other  traces  than  those  made  by  time 
Were  on  her  brow.     But  what  the  eye  loved  less, 
The  heart  loved  more.     Though  there  was  less  of  earth, 
There  was  much  more  of  heaven.     He  who  loved 
Before,  would  now  adore,  and  almost  feel 
That  he  was  gazing  on  some  angel  form 
Just  from,  or  now  about  to  leave  for  heaven. 


Long  years,  (for  time  moves  slow  to  them  that  wait,) 
Had  passed  'since  here  she  gave  her  youthful  heart, 
With  all  its  wealth  of  warm  affections  fresh, 
To  oYie  whose  faithfulness  she  could  not  doubt. 
And  here  she  had  been  happy  in  his  love  ; 
As  oft,  in  summer-time,  they  wandered  forth 
Alone,  watched  only  by  the  matron  moon, 
Or  birds,  as  busy  in  their  loves,  as  they. 


154  L  E  L  I  A  . 

And  now  she  stood  again  amid  these  scenes  ; 

But  where  was  he  ?     A  withering,  scathing  thought 

Came  up  and  lingered  for  a  moment  on 

Her  troubled  brow.-    Oh !  what  can  wring  the  heart 

Of  faithful,  trusting  woman,  like  the  thought 

That  she  has  been  abandoned  and  deceived  ? 

Oppressed  and  sad,  her  heart  gave  way,  and  found 

Jlelief  in  tears.     Then,  underneath  an  oak 

That  spread  its  branches  like  a  father's  arms 

Above  his  weeping  child,  she  knelt  and  prayed  : 


"  Almighty  Ruler  of  the  universe  ! 
Here,  in  thy  silent  item  pie,  I  would  bow, 
And  offer  up  my  feeble  meed  of  praise 
And  adoration. 


Thou  art  good  and  great ! 
Eternal,  self-existent !     Thou  dost  dwell 
The  same,  throughout  all  space,  forever  in 
Thine  own  seclusion  ;  moving  systems,  worlds, 
And  atoms,  in  harmonious  order  through 
Thy  boundless  realm  ;  sustaining  by  thy  will, 
And  power  creative,  all  things,  in  their  sure, 
Mysterious,  ceaseless  change. 


L  E  L  I  A  .     '*  •  155 

To  thee  belongs 

The  homage  of  mankind.     Thou  hast  revealed 
To  us  our  duty  and  our  destiny  ; 
And  sent  thy  Son  to  us  that  he  might  he 
The  Saviour  and  the  Sovereign  of  the  world. 
And  through  him  we  are  taught  to  pray  to  thee, 
Our  Father  and  our  God ;  that  thou  art  near, 
And  ever  willing  to  incline  thine  ear 
To  the  sincere  petitions  of  thy  poor, 
Oppressed,  and  erring  children  ;  that  thou  dost 
Regard  and  grant  them,  in  thy  providence, 

When  for  our  good. 

•        .» -  ^  ,'•'-.*        ,  < 

We  know  that  we  must  die  ; 
That  life,  at  best,  is  short,  and  soon  must  end  ; 
That  every  tie  on  earth,  however  dear, 
Must  yield  to  thy  omnipotent  decree  ; 
And  yet,  when  thou,  in  mercy,  one  by  one, 
Dost  take  away  our  idols  from  us  here, 
To  wean  us-  gently  from  this  fleeting  world, 
Oh  !  how  we  tax  thy  goodness  with  our  woes, 
And  struggle  to  retain  them. 

This  poor  heort 

Is  sad  and  lonely  now  ;  bereft  of  all — 
The  first,  the  last,  the  only  link  that  binds 


156  L  E  L  I  A  . 

Its  fluttering  pinion  to  this  blighted  sphere — 

It  comes,  in  all  its  weakness,  to  thy  throne, 

To  ask  forgiveness  for  its  many  sins, 

And  strength  to  bear  with  fortitude  thy  will, 

And  give  up  freely  all  its  hold  on  earth,  f .. 

That  it  may  find  relief,  and  rest  in  peace, 

Cheered  by  the  hope  of  happiness  in  heaven.  V   ' 

Already  has  the  seed  of  death  been  sown ; 

I  feel  it  stealing  through  this  languid  frame  ;     « 

And  soon,  all  still  and  cold,  it  must  repose 

In  the  lone  grave  ;  but,  oh  !  if  I  might  see 

Once  more  that  absent  one,  or  even  know 

That  he  is  well,  and  happy  in  the  hope 

Of  rest  eternal  in  the  spirit  land  ;  •  «.    * 

I  feel  that  I  could  die  without  regret. 

I  know  that  with  thy  blessing  we  are  safe ; 

Grant  that,  O,  Father  !  not  to  us  alone, 

But  to  thy  children,  everywhere,  I  pray, 

And  ask,  through  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord.   Amen  !" 


Vain  skeptic !   say,  is  there  no  solace  found 
By  those  who  put  their  trust  in  Him,  and  call 
Upon  His  name  ?     If  thou  hadst  seen  that  face, 
All  pale,  and  wrung  with  angaish,  lifted  up  ; 
And  then,  in  its  angelic  beauty, -calm 


L  E  L  I  A  .  157 

And  placid,  as  she  rose  and  quit  the  scene ; 

f      % 
Thou  wouldst  have  felt  that  this  was  holy  ground, 

And  that  the  presence  of  the  Mighty  One 

Was  brooding  o'er  that  sad  and  sorrowing  heart, 

And  stilling  its  emotion. 

Go,  contend     % 

With  the  fierce  whirlwind's  wrath  ;  the  ocean  surge ; 
The  lightning  leaping  from  the  lurid  cloud  ; 
Marshal  your  serried  hosts  upon  the  plain, 
And  rush  impetuous  on  your  stubborn  foe ; 
And  breast  to  breast  with  glittering  steel  opposed, 
Close  in  the  deadly  conflict,  dealing  death 
And  carnage  all  around ;  and  let  your  shout 
Of  triumph  ring  above  the  clashing  steel, 
And  the  deep  wail  of  hosts  of  dying  men  ; 
Place  on  your  brow  the  victor's  wreath  of  fame, 
Inwoven  with  the  sighs  of  widowed  hearts, 
And  set  with  orphan's  tears  for  glancing  gems ; 
And,  "  He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens  shall  laugh, 
And  have  you  in  derision ;"  but  the  soft, 
Vibrations  of  a  whispered  prayer  will  touch  - 
His  heart,  and  move  its  mighty  energies. 

Ah  !  Lelia,  hadst  thou  known  the  reason  why 
That  loved-  and  absent  one  did  not  return 
14 


158  L  E  L  I  A  . 

In  his  appointed  time,  far  other  thoughts 

Than  those  that  gave  thee  pain  would  have  disturhed 

Thy  gentle  bosom. 

Gallantly  his  bark, 

With  all  her  canvass  to  the  breeze  unfurled, 
Was  bounding  o'er  the  main.     And  Lelan  felt 
His  heart  beat  quicker  as  the  breeze  grew  strong  ; 
And  kindling  with  his  hopes  and  fears,  he  sung : 

"  Now,  noble  bark,  upon  the  deep, 
Thy  trackless  path  pursue,     '. 

And  o'er  the  curling  billows  leap, 
With  steady  helm  and  true. 

.  As  men  woo  Fortune  for  her  smile, 

Court  thou  the  fickle  gale, 
And  leave  this  dark  benighted  isle, 
Our  own  fair  land  to  hail. 


I  love  the  speed  the  strong  wind  brings, 

Nor  care  how  fast  I  go  ; 
The  bird  that  soars  on  swiftest  wings, 

Would  bear  me  on  too  slow. 


L  E  L  I  A  .  159 

For,  this  full  heart,  long  taught  to  bow 

To  mandates  of  the  soul, 
Is  fluttering  in  my  bosom  now, 

And  will  not  brook  control. 


I'm  on  the  sea,  I'm  on  the  sea ! — 
My  pulse  is  throbbing  wild  ; 

And  I  could  dance  and  shout  with  glee, 
Like  some  untutored  child. 

Speed  on— for  there  is  o'er  the  main, 
Where  sinks  the  setting  sun, 

A  form,  these  arms  would  clasp  again, — 
A  dear  and  lovely  one.     • 

j  -1 

Oh !  Lelia,  art  thou  still  the  same, 

As  when  I  saw  thee  last  ? 
Thy  smile  of  love  let  me  still  claim  ; 

'Twill  amply  pay  the  past. 

How  have  I  borne  to  be  away 

From  thee  I  love  so  well ! 
How  shall  I  yet  bear  the  delay ! 

Alas,  this  heart  can  tell  ! 


160  L  E  L  I  A. 

s 

Ye  winds  be  fair  !  thou  sky  serene  ! 

Proud  bark  thy  course  is  free  ! 
On  ocean's  breast  thou  sitt'st  a  queen  : 

Be  true,  be  true,  thou  sea  !" 


Who  has  not  felt  enkindled  in  his  breast 
A  thrill  of  fear,  of  joy,  when  long  away, 
He  turns,  at  last,  his  footsteps  towards  the  home 
Of  his  affections,  and  of  those  he  loves  ! 
But  Lelan  had  forgot  the  elements 
Are  far  more  faithful  than  his  fellow  man. 


The  lawless  pirate,  ranging  o'er  the  deep, 
Had  marked  that  noble  ship,  and  now  came  d&wn 
Upon  her,  as  the  vulture  swoops  its  prey. 
A  fierce  and  savage  band,  upon  her  deck 
They  stand,  impatient  for  their  work  of  death, 
While  Lelan  thus  addressed  the  brigand  chief, 
Whose  lofty  bearing  told  that  he  was  none 
Of  nature's  careless  work : 


"  Thou  art  n  fine 

And  manly  looking  fellow  ;  no  doubt  brave, 
In  desperate  deeds  of  daring,  as  the  world, 


L.E  L  I  A  .  161 

By  its  false  standard,  terms  it ;  worthy  of 
A  better  calling  !    Ah  !  sneer  not  because 
Thy  daring  spirit  met  no  contest  here  ; 
Nor  deem  that  thou  hast  got  a  cringing  slave 
Thy  prisoner.     This  heart  as  calmly  beats, 
As  ever  did  thine  own,  and  does  defy 
Thy  worst,  if  thou  wilt  give  a  trusty  blade 
To  this  right  arm,  and  meet  me  hand  to  hand." 


The  brigand,  eying  him  a  space,  replied  : 
"  Your  speech  is  bold,  young  man  !  As  you  well  know, 
Our  custom  is,  to  make  short  work  with  those 
That  might  tell  tales ;  and  as  your  doom  is  sealed, 
For  want  of  more  exciting  sport,  I  grant 
Your  modest  boon.     Take  thou  this  blade,  prepare, 
And  we  will  try  thy  vaunted  strength  and  skill." 
Then,  turning  to  his  men,  he  bid  them  stand ; 
Drew  forth,  and  closed  with  Lelan  in  the  strife. 
Awhile,  in  easy  play,  they  seemed  engaged  ; 
But,  gathering  as  the  storm,  the  struggle  grew 
More  fierce  and  hot  with  each  successive  pass 
That  harmless  fell  upon  the  ringing  steel. 
'Twas  soon  apparent  to  the  brigand  chief, 
No  feeble  arm  opposed  his  utmost  skill ;    t  ' 
14* 


162  .  '    L  E  L  I  A  . 

And  vexed  at  being  foiled,  he  dealt  his  blows 

In  furious  passes  at  his  skilful  foe, 

Who,  cool  and  calm,  with  sure  precision  turned 

Each  deadly  thrust  aside,  until  he  gained 

Advantage  of  his  flagging  arm,  and  struck 

The  weapon  from  his  hand ;  then,  casting  down 

His  own,  he  stood,  alike  unarmed,  before  the  chief, 

Who  thus  addressed  him  : 


"  Dost  thou  give  me  life ! 
Know,  then,  a  brigand  shall  not  be  out-done  ; 
Thy  life  is  safe.     But  I  would  know  by  what 
Strange  principle,  such  coolness,  strength,  and  skill, 
Were  not  employed  to  save  this  stately  ship." 


"  Know,  then,  that  I  am  one  who  deems  the  life 
Of  my  own  brother  man,  to  be  by  far 
More  sacred  than  the  richest  mines  of  gold. 
Had  we  contended,  blood  must  have  been  shed  ; 
And  thou,  with  all  thy  band,  art  ill  prepared 
To  clost  thy  last  account. 

But  tell  me,  why 

Dost  thou  pursue  this  wretched  course  of  life, 
Which  soon  must  end,  to  satisfy  the  law  ; 


L  E  L  I  A.  163 

By  violence  from  these ;  or,  far  away 

From  thy  once  happy  home,  on  some  wild  shore, 

Unsoothed  by  mother,  wife,  or  friend.     Thy  name 

A  blot  upon  the  teeming  page  of  man's 

Foul  history?     Thy  mien  speaks  better  things." 


A  quivering  muscle  moved  the  brigand's  lip  ; 
And,  drawing  Lelan  from  his  men,  aside, 
Replied : 


"  This  mode  of  life  t  do  despise. 
Few  men  commit,  because  they  love  it,  crime. 
'Tis  forced  upon  them  by  the  world.     Endowed 
By  nature  with  a  higher,  keener  sense, 
Than  beasts  of  burden,  can  they  live  as  such, 
Content  to  bow  obedient  to  some  ass 
Whose  weak  and  stupid  intellect  is  roused 
To  vent  its  spleen  and  humor  by  the  pain 
Of  being  over-fed  ? 


A  mother  once 

Lhad,  but  she  is  dead.     When  but  a  boy, 
She  pressed  my  downy  cheek  upon  her  own, 


164  L  E  L  I  A  . 

All  pale  and  drooping,  as  a  withered  flower 
In  early  spring,  and  said,J  My -son,  I  soon 
Must  leave  thee  to  the  cold  and  ruthless  world. 
Thy  father,  fighting  for  his  country,  died. 
And  I  have  struggled  hard  to  save  from  want 
Thy  infant  years.     I  can  no  more.     This  heart 
Is  sinking  in  the  flood,  these  eyes  would  weep 
Were  they  not  sealed.     My  brother,  when  I'm  gone, 
May- yet  protect  my  child.     Go,  be  a  man  !' 
Then  gave  her  blessing,  all  she  had  to  give, 
And  died. 


Turned  from  my  kinsman's  door  away, 
I  set  out  honestly  to  gain  my  bread ; 
But,  cheated,  swindled,  robbed,  oppressed,  I  swore 
By  her  who  nursed  my  homeless  infant  boy, 
To  wring  that  justice  from  the  human  race 
Which  it  denied  me,  by  this  single  arm, 
Or  perish,  as  I  seemed,  at  best,  but  doomed. 
The  deeds  which  I  have  done,  I  grant,  were  dark : 
And  oft  they  gave  my  heart  a  thrilling  pang ; 
But,  must  I  crouch,  or  others  crouch  to  me  ? 
Beg,  fawningly,  and  play  the  sycophant, 
While  every  nerve  in  my  whole  frame  rebels, 
Or  beggar  others,  who  can  feel  no  more  ? 


L  E  L  I  A.  165 

These  are  the  precepts  taught  me  by  the  world ; 

Arid  they  are  questions,  answered  by  the  first 

Law  of  our  nature.     If  the  heart  must  feel, 

The  head,  at  least,  may  choose  the  kind  of  pain. 

For  bread,  or  menial  toil,  to  save  their  life, 

Let  others  trembling  crave  the  pampered  hand 

Which  fate,  by  some  wild  freak,  has  filled  with  gold, 

The  manner,  would  not  bear  the  telling  oft ; 

I  choose,  you  see,  to  satisfy  my  wants 

Another  way,  and  feel,  when  nature  prompts, 

As  oft  it  does,  the  higher,  nobler  trait 

Of  pity  for  my  victims.     But  I  fain 

Could  wish  it  were  not  so.     Still,  I  must  take 

The  world  on  its  own  terms  ;  I  neither  made 

Myself  nor  it."  ' 


And  Lelan  thus  replied : 

"  Thou  art  not  far  from  truth,  my  friend.     The  world 
Is  bad  enough  ;  but  thou  wouldst  make  it  worse — 
Not  better.     Here  the  error  lies.     It  is 
Our  habitation  ;  we,  as  tenants  here 
A  little  while  in  common,  ought  to  make 
It  comfortable  or  abide  the  storm. 
'Tis  not  for  weak  and  finite  minds  to  look 
Into  the  plans  and  purposes  of  God 


166  L  E  L  I  A. 

Beyond  what  he  reveals.     He  made  all  things, 

And  who  shall  say  He  did  not  do  it  well ! 

He  rules  all  things,  and  who  shall  dare  to  say 

His  laws  and  special  edicts  are  not  good  ! 

If  wel/,  and  good,  whence  cometh  evil  then  ? 

Abstractly,  no  such  principle  exists. 

Evil  consists  in  misapplying  good. 

All  things  are  good,  for  God  pronounced  them  so. 

In  their  bad  use  alone  the  evil  lies. 

Man  has  the  power  to  use  for  good  or  ill : 

It  was  the  test  of  his  obedience, 

And  is  so  still.     That  he  may  use  it  well, 

Who  will  deny  ?     That  he  has  used  it  ill, 

Alas  !  poor  human  nature  knows  and  feels  ! 

Without  it,  man  would  be  a  simple  clod. 

Why  he  was  made  at  all,  ask  thou  of  God  ! 


Thus,  physically,  man  became  impaired. 
And  here  we  find  ourselves,  composed  of  mind 
And  matter — soul  and  body  ; — one  produced 
By  procreation,  while  the  other  comes 
From  God,  and  is  immortal.     His  best  gift 
To  man.     The  soul,  that  nice  adjusted  thing ; 
With  all  its  harmony  of  balanced  powers  $ 


L  E  L  I  A  .  1 67 

The  skilful  work  of  the  Eternal  Mind  ; 
Must  manifest  itself  as  best  it  can 
Through  its  imperfect  organs. 

Hence,  the  vast 
Variety  of  character  displayed  ; 
Which,  in  its  strongest,  highest,  nohlest  range, 
Still  leaves  unsatisfied  the  longing  soul. 
And,  like  a  prisoner-bird,  that  fain  would  soar, 
15ut  folds  its  drooping  wings  upon  its  breast, 
Or  madly  chafes  them  on  its  prison-bars, 
The  soul  looks  from  its  prison-house  of  clay, 
Through  every  loop  undarkened  by  despair, 
Or  in  mad  efforts  racks  its  feeble  frame. 
"  The  spirit's  willing  but  the  flesh  is  weak." 
Where  is  the  strength  that  fain  would  be  put  forth 
By  the  disease-attenuated  frame  ! 
The  speech,  to  kindle  on  the  tongue  that's  dumb ! 
The  melody,  to  charm  the  ear  that's  deaf J 
The  beauty,  flashing  round  the  eye  that's  blind  ! 
The  free,  the  wide,  the  mighty  scope  of  thought, 
Of  reason,  when  the  brain  is  weak  and  dull  ! 
Alas  !  who  does  not  feel  this  ponderous  truth  f 
"  The  spirit's  willing  but  the  flesh  is  weak." 
Who  shall  set  limits  to  the  daring  soul ! 
Give  it  an  organism  unimpaired, 


168  L  E  L  I  A. 

And  thou  shalt  see  a  man,  transcendently 
Above  all  that  the  world  e'er  saw,  save  One. 
Alas,  that  human  nature  should  have  fallen 
From  such  a  height,  to  such  a  dark  abyss 
Of  wretchedness  and  woe  ! 


But  as  it  fell, 

So  may  it  be  restored.     Abundant  means 
Are  all  around  us,  if  we  use  them  well. 
It  is  the  body,  not  the  soul,  that  claims 
Our  philanthropic  aid  in  its  behalf: 
The  physical  condition  of  mankind 
Must  be  improved.     'Tis  through  this  means  alone 
The  moral  can  be  permanently  reached. 
Those  who  teach  otherwise  than  this,  teach  wrong. 
It  is  a  ruse  of  tyranny  to  point 
The  suffering  millions  to  a  better  world 
That  they  may  be  content  to  bear  the  ills 
And  wrongs  which  it  inflicts  upon  them  here. 
Each  one  a  man — ^what  more  the  sceptred  wretch 
Who  crushes  them  beneath  his  iron  rule  ? 
It  is  a  duty  which  we  owe  to  God, 
Ourselves,  society,  our  fellow  man, 
To  elevate  the  standard  of  our  race  ; 


L  EL  I  A  .  1G(J 

Unfold,  enlarge,  exa't,  and  dignify 

These  snored  "  temples  of  the  living  God." 

\Ve  must  go  to  the  squalid  haunts  of  woe-, 

Of  poverty,  of  ignorance,  of  crime  ; 

Lift  up  the  wretched  inmates  to  the  light, 

And  let  them  breathe  the  genial  breath  of  heaven  ;. 

Teach  them  to  think,  to  feel,  to  act  like  men ; 

Give  them  an  interest  in  society,  .       , 

\ 

And  thus  enlist  their  feeling  on  the  side 

Of  4  law  and  order,'  justice,  truth,  and  love. 

They  are  our  brothers  !  shall  we  let  them  starve, 

And  heap  their  dying  curses  on  our  heads  ? 

Or  live  to  forage  in  a  thousand  forms 

Upon  the  avarice  and  selfishness 

Of  those  who  grind  and  crush  them  to  the  dust?      k 

It  is  no  fault  of  theirs  that  they  were  born  ;       j 

Whose  is  it,  that  the  portals  of  the  soul 

Have  never  been  unclosed  ? 


It -is  in.  vain 

For  men  to  shut  their  eyes,  as  well  as  hearts, 
And  say,  '  I've  naught  at  all  to  do  with  this  :' 
Vain  boast !  short-sighted  mortals  that  we  are  ! 
Who  pays  for  prison,  alms-house,  jail,  and  court; 
Who  double  locks,  and  bolts,  and  bars  his  door ; 
15  *~* 


170  L  E  L  I  A  . 

••  •  *  *       v 

Who  fears  the  dread  incendiary's  torch  ; 
The  assassin's  knife  ;  the  daring  rubber  bolt!  ; 
The  roving  pirate's  fierce  and  savage  band  ; 
Contagion,  steaming  from  these  putrid  dens, 
Engendered  there,  to  float  upon  the  winds, 
And  sow  the  earth  with  foul  disease,  entailed, 
With  all  its  horrors,  on  the  human  race. 
These  evils  are  among  us  ;  who  escapes 
Them  !   Why  should  they  remain,  since  every  one 
Would  be  the  gainer  if  they  were  removed  ! 
And  to  remove  them  is  an  easy  task, 
If  men  would  do  their  duty  to  themselves, 
Society,  posterity,  and  God. 
Let  bigots  prate  about  their  creeds  and  forms, 
And  rest  upon  observance  and  belief; 
Fanatics  rant  *md  talk  of  saving  souls, 
For  which  good  service  rendered  the  Most  High 
They  surely  will  expect  of  Him  reward, 
At  least,  of  extra  privilege  in  heaven  ;       .  > 
And  priests  for  money  intercede  with  God 
To  mitigate  the  punishment,  though  just, 
Of  some  '  scape-goat'  who  died  before  his  time  ; 
They  might  be  worse  employed,  better  no  doubt. 
"  I  take  it  that  our  duties  here  are  far 
More  practical,  though  not  at  all  less  .fraught 
With  consequence  momentous  to  our  race. 


L  E  L  I  A  .  171 

It  will  not  do  to  sit  in  lordly  state 

And  d«al  out,  ethics  to  the  destitute.  K 

The  laws  of  being  are  imperative, 

And  must  one  way  or  other  be  obeyed. 

'Tis  not  enough  to  say,  "  Depart  in  peace  ; 

Be  warmed  and  filled  ;"  more  must  be  done  than  this 

If  we  would  make  man  what  he  ought  to  be  ; 

We  must  come  down  from  visionary  schemes 

To  '  stubborn  facts,'  and  take  him  as  he  is, 

Improve  his  organism,  and  direct 

His  energies  to  higher,  nobler  ends. 

Teach  him,  the  more  the  better,  self  respect, 

And  then  to  "  love  his  neighbor  as  himself.1' 

The  body  is  depraved  and  far  below 

The  soul's  capacity. — The  instrument 

Has  lost  its  tone,  and  now  sends  forth  the  jar 

Of  discord  where  there  should  be  harmony  ; 

Its  cords  are  swept  by  rude  and  careless  hands, 

Until  they  cease  to  vibrate  to  the  touch, 

Or,  quivering,  break,  and  leave  a  lonely  wreck 

To  perish  by  the  way. 


The  rich,  o'erfed, 
Are  indobnt,  tyrannical,  and  vain  ; 
The  poor,  o'erworked,  ill  fed,  and  comforUess, 


172  L  E  L  I  A  . 

I 

Are  menial  slaves,  or  reckless  vagabonds. 

Thus,  with  the  elements,  if  well  applied, 

In  rich  profusion  graciously  bestowed, 

To  make  it  soon  in  vernal  beauty  bloom, 

Poor  human  nature  lies  untilled,  untrained, 

A  wilderness  untamed,  a  barren  waste  : 

Where  thorns  and  thistles  spring,  and  choke  the  growth 

Of  all  that's  useful,  beautiful,  and  good  ; 

Where  gems  of  rarest  worth  lie  trodden  down, 

Unsought,  unknown,  by  rudest  vandal  feet. 


I  call  on  you,  on«every  man  who  has 
XA  spark  of  love  remaining  for  his  kind, 
To  concentrate  your  efforts  on  this  point, 
The  physical  improvement  of  our  race. 
This  is  the  point  from  which  reform  must  start. 
You  might  as  well  attempt  to  teach  the  babe 
Theology,  that  it  might  learn  to  walk, 
As  man,  that  he  might  better  learn  to  live  ; 
In  both,  the  physical  ability 
Is  wanting,  and  must  be  the  first  supplied. 
The  noblest  Exhibitions  of  the  soul 
Are  always  found  where  man  is  least  opprest ! 
America  !  my  own  free  happy  land  ! 


L  E  L  I  A\  173 

T  turn  to  thee  with  love  and  pride  ;  and  bail 
Thee  as  the  home  of  Freedom  !  where  she  sits 
Enthroned  !  and  from  her  mountain  turrets,  waves 
Exulting!  y  her  banner  to  the  world, 
\Vhi'e  rival  oceans  kneel  and  kiss  her  feet  ! 
She  stretches  forth  her  arms  to  the  opprest 
Of  every  land,  and  but  too  fondly  holds 
Them  to  her  generous  bosom. 

Though  there  are 

gome  spots  remaining  on  her  youthful  robe, —      .  * 
The  lingering  stains  of  royalty,-  as  well 
As  barbarism,  whence  she  late  emerged, — 
Still,  shall  she  not  remove  them  one  by  one, 
Until  she  stands  so  gloriously  arrayed 
That  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  shall  bow 
To  her  mild  sceptre  ?     Yes,  her  destiny 
Is  onward,  while  her  noble  sons  prove  true  ; 
And  as  her  flag  o'er  happy  millions  floats, 
Star  after  star  shall  nestle  in  its  folds." 


Borne  far  away  from  his  beloved  land, 
Perhaps  to  some  lone  island  in  the  main, 
The  home  of  thes'e  uncouth  and  lawless  nien, 
It  took  no  feeble  effort  to  control     . 
15* 


174  L  E  L  I  A  . 

The  gathering  gloom  of  disappointed  hope 

That  lowered,  like  a  cloud;  upon  his  brow. 

Regardless  of  the  oath,  the  jest,  the  laugh, 

The  quarrel  fierce,  or  bacchanalian  shout, 

He  paced  the  deck  in  meditation  lost, 

Or  leaning  o'er  the  vessel's  side,  he  gazed 

With  vacant  stare  upon  the  curling  waves, 

While  all  his  swift- winged  thoughts  were  far  away. 


A  light  hand  laid  upon  his  arm,  recalled 
His  wandering  thoughts.    The  brigand  chief  stood  there, 
And  whispered  in  his  ear  a  few  brief  words, 
Of  dangers  that  beset  him  from  the  crew  ; 
Then  pointing  to  a  little  boat,  he  said  : 
"  Leap  quick  for  life,  'tis  all  that  I  can  do  ;     ' 
And  He  whom  thou  dost  trust  will  safely  guide 
Thee  o'er  the  wave." 


The  wind  was  light,  but  soon 
It  bore  his  fragile  bark  beyond  the  reach 
Of  them  that  sought  his  life.  , 


L  E  L  I  A  .  175 

And  thus  alone, 

Mid-ocean,  drifting  with  the  wayward  winds, 
That  soon  might  wake  from  their  repose,  and  rush 
Like  shrieking  fiends  upon  the  fretful  waves, 

He  felt  in  all  its  overwhelming  force  . 

•  • 

The  utter  impotence  of  hirfi  who  trusts 

In  his  own  strength. 


But  all  around  was  calm. 
The  ocean  lay  outspread,  as  though  it  slept, 
And  rocked  him  gently  on  its  swelling  breast, 
And  sang,  as  mothers  to  their  slumbering  babes,    ..    . 
In  softer  tones  its  mournful  melody. 
The  sky,  a  spangled  curtain,  hung  around ; 
And  from  its  eastern  verge  the  full  orbed  moon, 
Night's  gorgeous  taper,  floated  up,  and  smiled 
To  see  her  beams  hold  such  a  merry  dance 

Upon  the  restless  wave. 

•*• 


It  was  a  scene, 

So  full  of  beauty,  yet  so  strange,  so  lone, 
So  like  the  fragment  of  some  feverish  dream, 
Some  wild  romance  that  flitted  through  his  brain, 
That  evenjie  let  go  the  helm  of  thought, 


176  L  E  L  I  A  . 

And  for  awhile  its  wild  illusions  chased. 
At  length  aroused,  he  said  : 


"  This  is  no  dream, 
But  stern  reality.     And  I  will  meet 
It  as  becomes  a  man. — A  simile 
Oflife  !    We  float  off  on  an  unknown  sea, 
Impelled  by  currents  we  can  neither  stem 
Nor  stay.     If  wrecked  it  was  misfortune's  fault, 
Or  chance*  or  luck,  or  doom,  or  fate  ;  if  safe, 
It  was  our  strength  and  skill  that  bore  us  through  ; 
But  where  the  wisdom,  strength,  and  skill,  that  weighs 
A  feather  now  !     What-  folly  is  it  here, 
Or  anywhere,  for  feeble  man  to  trust 
In  his  own  powers  ! 

But,  oh  !  there  is  -a  trust 

Tt'hat  will  not  fail  ;  a  faith  that  makes  us  strong. 
And  even  here,  in  this,  the  very  home 
Of  solitude,  far,  far  from  human  aid, 
And  drifting,  with  the  changeful  wind  and  tide, 
Upon  the  deep,  that  soon  my  lifeless  form 
May  hold,  close  lapped  and  slowly  settling  down, 
With  naught  to  mark  the  spot  of  its  repose, 
Save  the  few  bubbles  of  expiring  breath 
That  form  and  floats  moment  o'er  my  head, 


L  E  L  I  A  .  177 

I  stand  in  conscious  dignity  and  strength, 

And  look  with  undimmed  vision  through  the  veil 

That  separates  me  from  the  spirit  land. 

And,  as  the  deep,  embosomed,  holds  the  forms 

Of  those  bright  gems,  whose  real  substance  floats 

In  ether  far  above,  so  may  I  view 

This  dim  and  crumbling  nothingness  below, 

While  all  that's  real  in  existence  thrills 

With  immortality. 


Without  this  hope,          f  ? 
What  error,  chaos,  and  confusion  reign  1 
With  it,  what  harmony,  and  truth,  pervade, 
E'en  to  our  feeble  range,  the  universe. 
Upon  this  everlasting  rock  of  truth 
I  stand,  and  feel  a  conscious  power  that  bids    . 
Defjance  to  the  surging  waves  of  time, 
Or  lull  of  death.     As  well  might  He  who  framed 
The  boundless  universe,  and  circled  out 
Amid  its  endless  depths,  the  viewless  paths 
Of  wheeling  systems,  comets,  suns,  and  worlds, 
Himself  grow  feeble  with  the  lapse  of  time, 
And  drop  His  mighty  sceptre,  as  the  soul, 
A  glowing  spark  of  Deity  itself, 
Its  conscious  being  loose. 


178  L  E  L  I  A  . 

What  matter  then, 

Where  death  o'ertake  us,  so  we  are  prepared 
To  meet  and  give  it  welcome.  In  thy  hand 
O  God,  I  rest,  and  for  thy  summons  wait ! 


L  E  L  I 1,: 


PART   III. 


L    E     L    I    A  . 


Part  III. 


THE  circling  year  was  drawing  to  a  close. 
The  chilling  frosts,  like  whitening  locks  of  age, 
Hung  thick  around  ;  aud  through  the  naked  grove, 
The  wailing  winds  swept  bleak  and  drear,  as  though 
They  sang  its  requiem.     Above,  the  clouds 
Were  gathering  like  a  pall,  to  wrap  the  earth 
In  gloom  for  burial  in  its  snowy  shroud. 


Oh !  winter,  stern  and  cold,  thou  art  the  twin. 
Of  death ;  for  thou,  like  he,  with  icy  touch, 
Dost  drive  life's  generous  flowing  currents  back, 
And  hold  them  in  thy  chilling  fetters  bound ! 
16 


182  L  E  L  I  A  . 

The  healthful  ones  may  buffet  thy  embrace 
A  while,  and  sport  in  wild  and  reckless  mirth 
Amid  thy  desolation  ;  but  the  frail, 
Dread  thy  approach,  with  thy  long  train  of  ills, 
The  worn  and  shattered  frame  cannot  repel. 

Thy  heavy  hand  was  laid  on  Lelia  now  ; 
Yet  still  she  lingered,  like  a  summer  bird 
Impatient  for  its  absent  mate's  return, 
To  quit  its  woodland  home. 

Her  snowy  hand, 

Her  faded  cheek,  her  slow  and  feeble  step, 
All  told  that  she  was  fading  fast  away.       .    ' 
She  knew  it  well ;  and  for  herself,  she  said, 
She  had  no  fears  of  death  :  it  soon  must  come- — 
But,  when  she  thought  that  Lelan  might  return 
When  she  was  gone,  the  pearly  drops  would  steal 
Unbidden  from  their  fountains. 

"  Why,"  she  said, 

While  gazing  out  upon  the  dreary  plain, 
"  Why  is  it  that  our  fondest  dreams  of  bliss 
Elude  our  grasp,  and  leave  but  cankering  care 
To  fester  round  our  hearts  ? 


L  E  L  I  A  .  183 

How  oft  I've  gazed 

Far  o'er  this  plain  where  last  I  saw  his  form 
Receding,  but  to  turn  away  again, 
All  sad  and  lone,  to  brood  in  sorrow  o'er 
The  wreck  of  earthly  hopes  ! 


Not  long  ago, — 

And  yet  how  long  the  passing  moments  seemed — 
I  felt  the  flush  of  health  excite  this  frame, 
And  looked  far  down  life's  arched  and  flowery  path 
Until  its  long  unbroken  lines  converged 
In  distance  quite  remote.     'Twas  but  a  dream  ; 
That  vanished  like  the  fleeting  mists  of  morn, 
And  left  me,  step  by  step,  to  tread  upon' 
The  thorns  of  disappointment.     I  can  bear 
But  little  more,  and  then  all  earthly  hopes 
Will  end  forever  in  the  silent  grave. 
Then  shall  my  spirit  solve  the  mystery,     . 
Our  dull  perceptions  fail  to  fathom  here. 


My  lute,  once  more  upon  thy  yielding  strings, 
Let  me,  in  pensive  numbers,  lay  my  hand. 
And  chant  a  lay  of  sadness  to  my  heart, 
Ere  its  own  quivering  strings,  like  thine,  must  part. 


184  L  E  L  I  A  . 

O,  wherefore  should  I  linger  here, 
When  those  I  fondly  loved  are  gone,  - 

When  all  the  world  seems  cold  and  drear, 
And  I  am  left  to  pine  alone  ! 

Yet  lingering  on  the  verge  I  stand, 

And  dread  to  try  the  spirit  land. 

The  unknown  land  beyond  the  tomb, 
Whose  nearest  beacon  still  must  fail 

To  throw  one  ray  athwart  the  gloom 
That  hangs  above  the  lonely  vale, 

Where  death  his  silent  vigil  keeps, 

Along  its  dark  and  icy  steeps. 

>          .  »      •» 

But,  courage,  soul !  shake  off  this  dust 

That  blinds  the  sight,  and  clogs  thy  wing; 

And  in  thy  God  and  Saviour  trust ; 
To  whom  it  is  a  little  thing 

To  guide  and  guard  thy  lonely  flight 

To  realms  of  ever  living  light. 

To  Thee,  my  Saviour,  Father,  Friend, ' 
In  solemn  reverence  let  me  bow  ! 

And  ask  that  Thou  wilt  condescend 
To  hear  my  prayer,  and  bless  me  now, 


L  E  L  I  A  .  185 

That  I  may  feel,  my  spirit  even 

Thou  wilt  vouchsafe  a  home  in  heaven  !"    . 


She  did  not  linger  long  ;  and  when  she  died, 
The  ocean  buried  Lelan'.s  form  beneath 
Its  lashing  billows  ;  and  their  spirits  met 
On  that  fair  orb  they  chose  at  parting  here. 
"  My  Lelan  !"  "  Lelia  !"  and  their  spirits  closed 
In  an  embrace,  so  warm  and  tender,  that 
The  Angel  said,  who  stood  to  guard  the  gate, 
"  They  are  true  lovers,  let  them  pass  within." 
Here,  they  were  clothed  with  immortality, 
And  golden  harps  placed  in  their  trembling  hands; 
While  gathering  round,  the  beautiful  and  bright 
Forms  bent  to  kiss  their  blooming  cheeks,  and  hid 
Them  welcome  to  their  happy  home  of  bliss. 
Then  rang  their  harps,  in  choral  anthem  joined, 
Through  heaven's  blue  dome,  as  with  swift  hands  they 

swept 

The  yielding  wires,  and  sang  the  well  known  'strain 
They  oft  before  had  sung  o'er  the  redeemed. 
Electrical,  the  sound  was  caught  by  those 
Still  farther  round,  whose  ready  harps  were  strung ; 
And  farther  still,  the  swelling  anthem  rose, 
Until  God's  temple  trembled  with  the  song: 
16* 


186  L  E  L  I  A  . 

Welcome  to  your  happy  home, 

In  heaven  above  -; 
Where  pain  and  death  no  more  will  come, 

For  God  is  love. 


Mortals,  faithful,  you  have  won 

This  heaven  above ; 
Immortal  now,  love  on,  love  on, 

For  God  is  love. 

-»• \ 
Blissful  now  forevermore 

In  heaven  above  ; 
You  have  its  range  to  gain  the  lore 

That  God  is  love. 

*• 

Let  the  anthem  louder  ring 

In  heaven  above ; 
For  earth  hath  heard  the  song  we  sing, 

That  God  is  love. 

Angels,  thrones,  dominions,  powers, 

In  heaven  above, 
Proclaim  from  your  delightful  bowers, 

That  God  is  love. 


L  E  L  I  A  .  187 


Love  -s  the  theme  of  every  tongue 

In  heaven  above ; 
Forever  new,  forever  sung, 

For  God  is  love. 


They  ceased,  and  slowly  died  away  the  strain, 
While  answering,  like  an  echo,  through  the  dome, 
The  anthem's  burden,  «  God  is  love,'  came  up 
From  distant  orbs,  and  morning  stars,  and  suns, 
Far  out  upon  the  verge  of  vision. 


Now, 

The  stillness  of  devotion  brooded  o'er 
This  peaceful  realm — the  silence  of  the  soul 
While  offering  on  the  altar  of  its  heart 
The  burning  incense  of  its  grateful  love 
To  Him  who  gave  it  being.     . 


r  Then,  in  pairs, 

And  groups,  where  fancy  led,  the  throng  retired  : 
Some  to  the  flowery  plains  in  beauty  drest, 
To  groves,  and  glens,  and  lawns,  and  crystal  streams  ; 
To  gushing  fountains,  rocks,  and  waterfalls, 
And  to  the  golden  strand  of  *  waters  still.' 


188  L  E  L  1.  A  . 

While  Lelan  and  fair  Lelia,  motionless, 

Like  mortals  waking  from  a  sleep  profound, 

Confused  and  lost,  with  doubting  sense  remained  ; 

And  glanced  o'er  life's  dim  scenes,  as  o'er  a  dream, 

Receding,  as  their  conscious  powers  awoke, 

And  felt  the  rapturous  kindlings  of  a  life, 

To  which  existence  in  its  highest  range 

On  earth  is  but  a  shadow.     Every  sense 

Disburdened  of  corrupt  and  cumberous  clay, 

Unwearied,  drank  delight  without  alloy. 

Expanded  vision  traced  celestial  spheres, 

In  radiant  beauty,  circling  far  through  heaven, 

And  reveled  'mid  the  purpling  beams  of  light 

At  play  in  ether.     Hearing,  well  attuned, 

Was  quick  to  catch  the  harmonies  that  breathe 

Throughout  creation.     Taste,  refined  and  pure, 

Regaled  uncloyed  upon  the  bread  of  life. 

The  smell  was  greeted  with  the  rosy  breath 

Of  vernal  morn  in  dewy  freshness  bathed. 

And  feeling  gushed  responsive  to  the  play 

Of  perfect  life  vibrating  with  the  pulse 

Of  immortality. 

* 
<  They  stood  entranced 

Amid  the  bliss  of  heaven,  like  youthful  birds, 
Afraid  to  trust  their  wings.     At  length  assured, 


L  E  L  I  A  .  189 

With  circling  arms,  and  looks  of  love,  they  strayed 
O'er  the  green  pastures  to  a  smiling  grove, 
Where  blossoms,  fruits,  and  flowers,  of  richest  hue, 
And  curling  vines,  in  graceful  arbors  wreathed, 
Invited  their  delay  ;  and  thus,  alone, 
With  holy  greetings  such  as  angels  give, 
Sat  down,  and  told  the  stories  of  their  lives, 
As  lovers  tell  their  wild  and  wayward  dreams. 


While  thus  they  talked,  a  beauteous  angel  came, 
And  leaning  on  his  harp,  with  gentle  voice, 
Addressed  them. 

"  Let  me  not  disturb  your  bliss  ; 
I  come  to  leach  your  youthful  wings  to  soar, 
Where  fields  on  fields  of  bliss  untasted  lie, 
In  virgin  beauty,  far  beyond  the  reach 
Of  keenest  vision, — where  creative  power, 
In  its  infinity  of  love,  has  formed 
Elysiums  for  the  blest.     Yet  ere  we  plume 
Our  pinions  for  so  strong  and  bold  a  flight, 
Let  us,  a  while,  survey  this  fair  domain, 
And  learn  some  lessons,  it  were  well  to  know. 
Come,  let  us  go." 

And  bending  to  their  lips 
The  golden  vase  of  flowers,  he  bid  them  sip 
The  dewy  nectar  from  the  fragrant  cell. 


190  LELIA. 

Then,  led  them  out  upon  the  battlements,  •  ^ 
And  pointed  to  the  deep  and  slumbering, vale 
That  yawned  beneath. 

"  This  is  the  vale  of  Death, 
Through  which  come  mortals  to  the  spirit  land. 
Yon  dark,  impending  shroud  of  mist  and  gloom, 
That  floats  so  heavily  along,  and  veils 
Its  icy  depths,  is  formed  by  sighs  and  tears 
Out-gushing  from  yon  world  of  sin. 

I  well 

Remember,  when  the  Great  Creator  flung 
It  fresh  and  blooming  from  his  plastic  hand, 
The  shout,  from  the  assembled  host  of  heaven, 
As  wheeling  in  its  circling  path,  the  light 
First  gleamed  upon  its  lofty  turrets.     Downv 
The  angels,  to  its  fair  and  virgin  bowers, 
Leaped  joyously  to  greet  the  happy  pair 
Placed  in  its  blissful  Eden.     But,  alas  ! 
They  sinned,  and  lost  their  high  estate,  and  brought 
Innumerable  ills  upon  their  race. 
Nearly  six  thousand  times  it  now  has  rolled 
With  steady  motion  round  its  circling  path  ; 
And  how  much  longer  it  shall  hold  its  place, 
We  know  not;  but  of  late  there  have  been  signs 
And  whispers  of  some  change,  we  know  not  what. 
Much  has  been  done,  as  you  well  know,  to  bring 


L  E  L  I  A.  191 

Its  children  back  from  their  apostacy  ; 
•  But  still  they  lie  in  ignorance  and  sin, 
And  sigh,  and  weep,  and  wail,  and  groan,  and  die ; 
And  here,  emerging  from  the  vale  below, 
On  this  soft  sloping  bank  their  spirits  land. 
Observe,  as  now  the  vaporous  mass  rolls  on, 
How  dark  and  dense  becomes  the  gathering  gloom 
That  hangs  o'er  Asia's  curst  and  blighted  land  ! 
O  land,  once  blest  and  favored  more  than  all 
The  fair  domains  on  which  yon  sun  doth  shine  ! 
'Tvvas  there  in  primal  beauty  Eden  bloomed  ; 
And  there,  "  The  Sun  of  Righteousness  arose 
With  healing  in  his  wings."     Jerusalem, 
Once  glorious  in  the  light  that  played  around 
Thy  sacred  fanes  and  altars,  reared  in  faith, 
How  proud  a  destiny  was  thine,  to  teach 
The  nations  of  the  earth  !     Thou  dost  instruct 
Them  still,  but  not  in  joy.     The  wail  of  woe 
Comes  from  thy  crumbling  walls  and  ruined  shrines  ; 
Thy  sons  and  daughters,  scattered  o'er  the  earth, 
A  living  lesson  teach  ;  and  on  the  page 
Of  holy  inspiration  stands  the  doom 
Kecorded,  for  thy  deeds  and  broken  faith. 

Now,  brightening  northward,  in  a  thinner  haze, 
O'er  Europe's  happier  climes,  the  vapor  spreads ; 


L  E  L  I  A 


And  through  the  fleecy  lightness  of  its  shroud, 
The  spires  of  Britain's  sacred  temples  gleam. 


Now,  south  and  westward,  see  the  deepening  mass 
That  rolls  in  denser  clouds  above  the  plains 
Of  Africa's  benighted  land. 


Still  on, 

Observe,  it  softens  down,  and  lightly  hangs 
In  misty  vapors,  o'er  the  western  world ; 
And  northward,  breaks,  disclosing  to  our  view, 
The  land  of  liberty  and  equal  rights  ; 
Whose  modest  temples,  and  whose  spacious  domes, 
Send  up  a  blended  hymn  of  praise  to  God. 
There,  Faith  and  Jiope,  like  lamps  on  either  hand, 
Light  up  the  lone  and  dreary  vale  of  death  : 
And  many  hail  it  as  the  gate  of  life, 
And  fearlessly  await  the  appointecMiour, 
To  pass  its  portals  to  the  spirit  land. 
Let  us  go  down,  and  stray  along  the  shore. 
The  saints  are  often  waiting  here,  to  meet 
The  loved  and  faithful  ones  they  left  behind. 
O,  there  are  meetings  here  that  touch  the  heart 
With  joy  unspeakable  ! 


L  E  L  I  A  .  193 

See,  bending  o'er 

The  very  brink,  with  arms  outstretched,  that  fgr-m  : — 
Ha  !  now  she  clasps  again  her  little  boy, 
To  part  with  whom,  gave  death  its  keenest  pang. 
He  knows  that  bosom  well ;  and  as  she  looks, 
With  that  deep  love  a  mother's  breast  can  feel,   •  *  •  " 
Down  on  her  darling  boy,  her  cup  is  full..  ' 

*      V 

There  comes  a  stately  form  well  known  in  heaven. 
The  throng  that  now  surround  him,  oft  have  hung 
Upon  the  words  of  comfort  he  proclaimed, 
\Vith  thrilling  eloquence  and  power.     They  are 
A  portion  of  his  flock,  and  oft  have  told 
How  he  stood  forth  the  champion  of  truth, 
And  hurled  its  adversaries  in  the  dust, 
And  taught  the  people  wisdom,  day  and  night, 
And  warned  them  to  forsake  the  paths  of  sin, 
And  live  as  men,  that  they  might  die  in  peace,    •  . 
With  a  sure  hope  of  happiness,  in  heaven. 
His  was  a  glorious  choice;  and  rich  the  crown        ***.!! 
Of  righteousness  that  shall  adorn  his  brow. 
See,  circling  down  and  playing  round  his  head 
A  halo  now  its  purpling  beauty  bends  ; 
While  greetings,  from  these  loved  and  holy  ones, 
Fill  his  warm  heart  with  joy,  no  angel  tongue 
Hath  words  to  tell.     They  bear  him  to  his  rest." 
17 


194  L  E  L  1  A  . 

While  thus  they  stood,  another  form  came  up, 
And  glancing  round,  exclaimed,  u  In  heaven  at  last ! 
I  knew  that  I  was  right ;  did  I  not  tell 
The  wretches  they  were  on  the  road  to  hell  ? 
Denounce  their  mode  of  worship,  and  their  creed  ? 
And  hold  them  up  before  the  gazing  world, 
To  ridicule  and  scorn  ?    The  fools  deserve  4 

The  burning  wrath  in  store  for  them.     But,  hold — 
Here  is  a  wide  domain.     It  cannot  be 
That  this  is  heaven  ;  'tis  larger  than  I  thought ; — 
There  are  by  far  too  many  people  here. ; ' 
And,  as  I  live,  I  see  a  methodist ! —  r 

"  A  bigot,"  said  the  angel  ;  "  such  as  these 
Have  always  done  much  harm  upon  the  earth  ; 
Let  him  pursue  his  way  phe  yet  may  find 
His  solitary  heaven." 


With  pious  look,  ,  . 

And  lengthened  visage  came  another  one. 
And  when  he  saw  the  multitude,  began 
To  shout,  and  rant,  and  sing  hosannas,  loud, 
And  long.     "  Poor  hypocrite,"  the  angel  said, 
"  Howe'er  thy  borrowed  mantle  may  have  served 
Thy  purpose  ///ere,  'tis  scanty  covering  here." 


L  E  L  I  A  .  195 

The  drunkard's  spirit  reeling  came,  and  still 
Unconscious,  sang  his.  bacchanalian  songs. 


With  haggard  look  and  wo-worn  aspect,  came 
The  suicide  ;  and  as  the  filmy  veil 
Withdrew,  he,  gazing  wildly  round,  exclaimed, 
"  Ah,  ha  !  not  dead  !"  and  clenching  in  his  hand 
The  imaginary  steel,  struck  at  his  breast, 
With  quick  and  desperate  thrusts.     "  Deluded  one," 
The  angel  said,  "  Thou  canst  not  take  this  life. 
But  thou  wilt  find  a  keener  weapon  here 
Than  shining  blade  to  pierce  thy  breast — Remorse  !" 


Slowly  as  from  its  slime  some  monster  creeps, 
With  reptile  eye,  the  miser's  spirit  came. 
He  died  upon  his  bags  of  gold,  and  now 
Is  feeling  for  them,  wondering  where  they  are ; 
And,  as  he  casts  around  his  anxious  glance, 
His  eyes  fall  on  the  diamonds  glancing  bright, 
With  other  precious  stones  that  gem  the  soil. 
And  as.  a  sun-beam's  glearn  on  polar  ice, 
So  played  the  smile  of  joy  that  flashed  across 
His  indurate  face,  as  hurrying  to  and  fro,         * , 
He  snatched  the  precious  treasures  from  their  beds. 


196  L  E  L  I  A  . 

But,  lo  !  a  new  perplexity  arose  ; 
His  hands  'were  full,  and  there  were  many  more  :• 
Then  he  began  to  heap  them  snugly  up,    , 
When  he  was  seized,  and  struggling  borne  away. 


"  This,"  more  than  any  other,  said  their  guide, 
"  Is  the  accursed  sin  that  blights  yon  orb. 
The  great  Creator  pours,  from  his  full  hand, 
His  bounteous  blessings  on  its  race  in  vain, 
While  such  a  selfish,  sordid,  spirit  dwells 
-Upon 'its  soil.     It  would  soon  blight  e'en  heaven, 
And  turn  its  blessings  into  merchandise ; 
Seize  on  its  fair  domains,  and  farm  them  out ; 
Grow  proud  and  vain,  ambitious  of  renown; 
Rule  and  oppress  ;  bid  angels  fawning  stoop 
To  bear  it  on  their  wings,  or  softly  fan 
Its  weary  temples  with  their  downy  plumes  ; 
Engender  envy,  discord,  hatred,  strife, 
Confusion  wild,  and  on  the  tempest  ride, 
Till  drunk  with  power,  its  spirit  would  defy 
The  living  God,  and  seek  to  grasp  his  throne. 
Man  cannot  hoard  his  life;  why  should  he  seek 
To  hoard  its  blessings  ?  God  supplies  them  both  : 
And  he  who  grasps  and  hoards  the  latter,  robs 


L  E  L  I  A  .  197 

Both  God  and  man  :   God  of  the  honor  due, 
And  man  of  what  he  havS  a  right  to  claim 
By  virtue  of  the  life  God  gives.     Yet  this 
Ingratitude,  this  sore  and  blighting  sin, 
Though  in  a  thousand  forms  it  lies  concealed, 
Is,  after  all,  the  ruling  passion  on  yon  orb, 
And  makes  life  but  a  struggle,  while  the  strong, 
By  force  or  craft,  subdue  and  rule  the*  weak! 
'Tis  this,  that  makes  its  millions  wail,  and  groan, 
And  grope  about  in  ignorance,  and  gloom, 
Almost  beyond  the  searching  light  of  truth. 
'Tis  this,  that  binds  the  slave  in  servile  chains  ; 
And  holds,  secure,  the  tyrant  on  his  throne. 
'Tis  this  that  lights  the  torch  of  rampant'war, 
And  brings  the  serried  hosts  upon  the  plain 
To  breast  the  bristling  bayonet,  and  face 
The  deep-mouthed4  cannon,  belching  murderous  death  ; 
Bids  them  engage  in  hot  and  deadly  strife, 
And  s'ay  each  other  with  their  might  and  main. 
'Tis  this  that  sends  gaunt  poverty  abroad  '     • 
Upon  the  earth,  that  nobles,  lords,  and  dukes, 
His  royal  majesty,  his  holiness, 
May  loll  in  gorgeous  trappings  at  their  ease, 
And  batten  on  their  spoils,  or  nurse  desire, 
And  pander  to  their  wanton  sensual  lusts. 
17* 


198  L  E  L  I  A  . 

Insatiate  passion,  countless  are  the  woes 
Humanity  endures  beneath  thy  sway  !" 


In  sad  confusion,  shrinking  from  the  light 
Amazed,  the  spirit  of  the  deist  came.     , 
He  stood,  as  one  o'erwhelmed  wTith  rushing  thought, 
And  shuddered  as  he  said,  "  Is  it  then  so  ? 
Am  I  indeed  awake  and  conscious  still  ? 
Or  is  this  but  a  phantom  of  the  brain, 
A  floating  fragment  of  earth's  feverish  dream  ? 
Would  it  were  so.     Alas  !  alas  !  I  feel 
My  conscious  powers  awake  with  strange  new  life, 
And  pressing  down  upon  me  now  the  w-eight 
Of  an  eternity  I  thought  to  spend 
In  undisturbed,  oblivious,  dreamless  sleep. 
Oh  !  Nature,  from  whose  book  I  wrung  the  lore 
That  lit  my  pathway  through  thy  deepening  shades, 
Oh  !  why,  oh  !  why,  didst  thou  not  teach  me  this  ! 
I  delved  deep  in  the  bosom  of  the  Earth, 
Brought  forth  her  treasures  to  the  light,  found  out 
The  chronicles  she  keeps,  and  read  her  age 
And  history,  as  written  by  her  hand ; 
Soared  where  the  quiet  stars  their  vigils  keep ; 
And  with  the  lamp  of  science  in  my  hand 


L  E  L  I  A  .  199 

Unveiled  their  mysteries,  and  learned  the  laws 
That  Hold,  and  guide  them  in  their  dizzy  spheres. 
Athirst  for  knowledge  patiently  I  turned 
And  read  each  leaf  in  thy  vast  volume  o'er, 
But,  no  where  found  upon  its  teeming  page 
This  ponderous  truth. 

'Tis  true,  from  woman  weak, 
Half  witted  men,  fanatics  and  the  like, 
I  heard  it,  and  from  men  deemed  insincere ;     i 
But  who  could  credit  evidence  like  this, 
Which  Nature,  by  her  silence,  said  was  false. 
Alas  !  alas  !  I  now  am  here  a  child, 
Perchance  forever  doomed  to  be  the  sport     . 
Of  those  I  thought  but  little  else  than  fools. 
Where  shall  I  go  !   O,  that  the  ponderous  rocks 
And  mountains  now  would  fall  upon,  and  hide 
Me  from  this  presence  !" 

And  his  cowering  frame 
Shook  with  vague  fears  of  phantoms  undefined. 


"  Sad  error  this,"  the  angel  said,  "  to  take 
The  light  of  Nature,  rather  than  the  light 
Of  Revelation  for  a  guide.     As  well 
Prefer  the  borrowed  light  of  earth's  pale  moon 
To  the  effulgence  of  the  noon-day  sun. 


200  L  E  L  I  A  . 

The  source  of  light  is  revelation  ;  all 

Beside,  is  but  reflected,  shadowy,  dim. 

Many  accounted  wife  on  earth  thus  err. 

And  wander  through  the  dark  and  dreary  maze 

Of  abstract  lore,  in  search  of  abstract  truth  ; 

And  pride  themselves  on  finding  out  the  laws 

Which  they  call  Nature's,  and  from  them  deduce 

Wise  speculations,  theories,  and  signs, 

While  they  forget  that  He  who  gave,  as  well, 

Can  abrogate  them  with  a  single  breath  ; 

That  He  who  said,  "  Let  there  be  light,"  can  veil 

The  sun  ;  can  stop  the  earth  in  its  career, 

Dissolve  it  into  vapor,  and  disperse 

Its  elements  again  throughout  the  void." 


The  spirits  of  the  proud  and  haughty  came, 
And  bending  on  the  crowd  a  look  of  scorn, 
With  hasty  step  strode  o'er  the  flowery  lawn. 


With  winning  smile,  the  libertine  was  seen 
To  cast  his  passion  glances  on  the  forms 
Of  angel  beauty,  mingling  in  the  throng, 
And  ministering  wherever  mercy  called. 


L  E  L  I  A  .  201 

'   J*         ,  •  -V 

The  spirits  of  the  poor  by  thousands  came  ; 
Earth's  toil-worn  sons  and  daughters,  whose  whole  life 
Was  one  dull  task  that  ended  at  the  grave  : 
They  scarcely  seemed  to  have  a  thought,  or  hope. 
And  looked  with  vacant  stare  upon  the  scene, 
And  sank  down  on  the  soft  green  sod  to  rest. 

The  blind  came  up,  and  when  their  spirits  caught 
The  light  their  darkened  orbs  had  ne'er  beheld, 
They  stood  as  though  struck  dumb,  and  wildly  gazed 
Upon  the  gushing  beauty  thus  unveiled. 

The  lame  leaped  joyously  to  find  their  limbs 
All  lithe,  and  ready  to  perform  their  part. 

The  dumb  broke  forth  in  songs.     The  deaf  stood  still 
With  parted  lips,  and  listening  ear,  inclined, 
To  catch  the  harp-tones  wafted  on  the  air. 


Thus  wandering  down  the  margin  of  the  vale, 
They  viewed  the  ever  coming  spirits  land 
Upon  the  shores  of  immortality, 
From  every  clime  and  nation  of  the  earth. 
And  oft  they  paused'and  dwelt  upon  some  scene 
Full  of  instruction  to  the  mind  and  heart. 
For  there  were  meetings  of  the  loved  and  lost ; 


202  L  E  L  I  A  . 

Of  friends,  of  parents,  husband,  wife  and  child, — 
Re-unions  of  affection's  tenderest  ties  ; 
And  some,  alas  !  that  met  with  deadliest  hate 
Still  unsubdued,  and  rankling  at  the  heart. 
The  murderer  met  his  victim  face  to  face. 
The  slanderer  saw  and  quailed  beneath  the  gaze 
Of  those  whose  characters  he  sought  to  mar. 
The  meek-eyed  maiden  saw  and  loved  again 
The  wretch  who  blighted  all  her  hopes  on  earth. 
The  brother  met  the  brother  whose  close  hand 
Unclasped  not,  when  misfortune  weighed  him  down, 
But  left  him  to  the  kindlier  care  of  those 
Whose  manlier  hearts,  arid  nobler  souls,  spurned  not 
A  brother  for  the  crime  of  being  poor. 
The  trembling  slave  his  cruel  master  saw, 
Whose  presence  brought  to  mind  again  the  lash. 
Oppressor,  and  oppressed,  the  rich,  the  poor, 
The  ignorant,  the  wise,  the  powerful, 
The  weak,  the  bond,  the  free,  the  good,  the  bad, 
All  met  and  mingled  for  a  time  again. 
And  principles,  and  actions  were  explained, 
That  had  been  unsolved  mysteries  on  earth. 
These,  as  they  passed  along,  were  all  reviewed:,      . 
And  startling  were  the  truths  that  were  disclosed ; 
Oft  placing  crime  on  other  heads  than  those 


L  E  L  I  A  .  203 

On  which  the  world  had  placed  it;  and,  oft  good, 
Were  least  it  was  suspected  to  be  found  ; 
While  actions  lauded  to  the  very  skies, 
Oft  blushed  to  meet  the  motive  face  to  face 
That  called  them  forth.    * 


The  vale  encompassed,  they, 
Conducted  by  their  angel  guide,  returned 
To  their  abode  of  bliss.     "  I  leave  you  now," 
He  said,  "  but  will  return  to  you  again 
Ere  long,  when  we  will  be  prepared  to  pay 
Some  pleasant  visits  to  the  neighboring  orbs. 
Meantime  be  happy,  as  you  now  are  blest." 
And  lifting  from  their  radiant  brows  his  hands, 
He  left  them  in  their  blissful  bower  alone. 


Thus  Lelan  :-^-"  Lelia,  what  could  win  us  back 
To  mingle  in  the  groveling  scenes  of  earth. 
Surely  not  all  the  honor  it  could  give  ; 
Not  all  the  wealth  embosomed  in  its  soil  ; 
Not  all  the  power  the  mightiest  monarch  wields  ; 
A  moment's  bliss  in  heaven  is  worth  them  all ; 


204  L  E  L  I  A  .   , 

And  yet  how  many  thousands  peril  this, 
To  gain  these  vain  and  fleeting  things  of  earth. 
To  feel  and  know  that  we  are  happy  now 
Beyond  the  reach  of  care,  of  time,  or  change, 
Surrounded  by  the  beautiful  and  good, 
To  live  and  love  forever,  it  is  heaven." 
And  Lelia  with  her  harp  responsive  sung : 


It  is  heaven ! — above  us  the  blue  skies  are  bending, 
Like  wings  of  an  angel  out-spread  o'er  the  world  ; 

While  the  light  through  the  azure  is  softly  descending, 
From  orbs  that  are  floating  in  ether  empearled. 


It  is  heaven  ; — for  Eden's  sweet  flowers  are  blooming 
In  their  own  native  gardens,  that  spread  far  away, 

And  with  fresh  balmy  odors  the  soft  air  perfuming, 
That  gently  encircles  their  blooms  in  its  play. 


It  is  heaven ! — the  spray  from  the  pure  crystal  fountains, 
Floats  off*  on  the  zephyrs  through  purpling  beams, 

Forming  halos,  enwreathing  the  tops  of  the  mountains, 
That  are  mirrored  again  in  the  depths  of  the  streams. 


L  E  L  I  A  .  205 

It  is  heaven  ! — the  groves  on  the  plains  and  the  highlands 
Are  waving  their  boughs  in  the  light  fanning  breeze, 

And  look,  in  the  distance,  like  beautiful  islands 
On  the  soft  heaving  bosom  of  emerald  seas. 

It  is  heaven  !— the  hymn  of  creation  is  swelling, 
As  worlds  call  to  worlds  from  their  orbits  afar, 

Harmoniously  blending  the  praise  they  are  telling 
With  cadences  wafted  from  star  unto  star. 


It  is  heaven  ! — pavilioned  in  beauty  and  brightness, 
That  ne'er  shall  be  touched  by  disease  or  decay, 

Our  spirits,  as  free  as  the  air  in  its  lightness,       •• 
May  repose  amid  blossoms,  or  float  far  away. 

It  is  heaven — and  calm  are  these  peaceful  dominions  ; 

No  shadow  e'er  falls  on  the  land  from  above, 
But  the  swift  flitting  hues  from  the  radiant  pinions 

Of  angels,  on  errands  of  mercy  and  love. 

It  is  heaven : — no  more  is  there  sorrow  and  weeping  ; 

For  death  hath  no  victim  in  this  happy  clime ; 
Far  down  in  the  valley  his  pale  corse  is  sleeping, 

Enwrapt  by  the  motionless  pinions  of  time. 
18 


206  L  E  L  I  A  . 

It  is  heaven — what  more  can  we  ask  of  the  power 

Who  ctdes.'aH*  things  well,  and  whose  love  cannot  change, 

Than  this,  life  immortal  with  heaven  our  dower, 
And  the  boundless  extent  of  creation  our  range  !" 


"  With  thee,"  said  Lelan,  "  'tis  enough  ;  without 

Thee,  even  this  existence  were  as  cold, 

And  cheerless  as  the  depths  of  yonder  vale. 

Thou,  who,  on  earth,  wast  delicate  and  fair, 

And  tender  as  the  passion-flower's  bloom, 

Art  here  a  brilliant  star,  round  which  I  love 

In  cyclic  sport  to  play  ;  to  gaze  on  thee, 

And  revel  in  the  warm  and  lustrous  light 

That  zones  thy  beauteous  forrn  ;  to  catch  thy  look 

Of  tenderness  and  love,  that  beams  as  soft 

And  trusting,  as  a  babe's  first  conscious  smile. 

Thou  art  my  own  bright  one,  to  circle  on 

This  bosom  ever,  as  I  fold  thee  now, 

In  fadeless  youth.     No  more  shall  care  oppress, 

Or  fears  disturb,  or  pain  distress  thy  life — 

No  poison,  here,  floats  on  the  ambient  air 

To  steal  the  bloom  and  beauty  from  thy  cheek. 

But  ever  thus,  forever  mine  ;  our  home, 

In  heaven ;  our  range,  all  space ;  our  Saviour,  Christ; 


L  E  L  I  A  .  207 

Our  father,  God ;  and  God  is  love.     It  is    :  r^t** 
Enough  ;  more  would  be  pain ;  and  less,  despair." 


"  If  I,"  said  Lelia,  "  am  a  brilliant  star, 
Thou  art  the  radiant  sun  that  gives  it  light ; 
Thine  were  the  beams  that  kindled  first  its  flame  ; 
And  all  of  warmth,  or  beauty,  it  can  give, 
Is  thine,  forever  thine.     I  loved  thee  there,  "  : 
In  yon  dark  world,  as  woman  loves  ;  but  here, 
My  spirit  thrills  with  rapture,  as  I  gaze 
Upon  thy  manly  form,  and  hold  thee  close, 
As  yonder  vine  clings  to  the  stately  palm. 
Oh  !  Lelan,  I  am  happy  now.     I  oft, 
While  on  the  earth,  in  spirit,  wandered  here, 
And  dreamed  of  thee  and  heaven  ;  but,  ah !  how  vague 
And  fleeting  were  the  shadows  then,  compared 
With  the  sublime  realities,  I  feel, 
I  see,  I  know  !     How  wonderful  the  change ! 
How  slight  and  simple  seem  the  means  employed !" 


"  The    Great  First  Cause,"  said  Lelan,    "  does  things 

thus : 

The  instrument  with  which  he  works  is  truth, 
Clothed  with  his  energies,  in  simplest  garb. 


208 


L  E  L  I  A  , 


That  things  to  mortals  are  mysterious, 

Is  not  because  the  things  themselves  are  dark, 

But  the  perceptions  through  which  they  are  viewed. 

The  soul  God  gives  to  them,  at  first  is  pure, 

And  perfect,  as  are  all  his  works  ;  but  soon 

It  gets  distorted  in  its  passage  through 

Its  feeble  and  imperfect  organs.     This 

Condition  is  the  effect  of  Adam's  fall — 

This,  is  the  loss  of  Eden  to  the  soul. 

But  God  is  love,  and  ever  loves  to  make 

His  children  happy.     'Twas  for  this  he  sent 

His  Son  to  make  atonement  for  all  sin, 

The  cause  of  which  is  traced  to  Adam's  fall : 

The  rest  must  be  repented  of,  or  borne. 

For  this,  He  came,  to  win  them  back  from  sin, 

That  he  might  give  them  perfect  life,  and  clothe 

Their  longing  spirits  in  a  perfect  form 

For  everlasting  happiness  in  heaven : 

The  truth  of  which  our  spirits  know  and  feel. 

But  yonder  comes  our  guide,  all  plumed  in  light, 

And  radiant  as  a  star." 

"  Hail !  happy  ones," 
Saluting  them,  he  said  :  "I  come  again 
To  guide  you  through  more  pleasing  scenes  than  those 
We  met  in  yon  deep  vale.  J, 


L  E  L  I  A  , 

We  first  will  take 

Our  stand  upon  the  sun;  and  pausing  there; 
Will  hear  the  hymn  the  solar  system  chants, 
As  wheeling  in  their  orbits  round  his  throne, 
The  planets  blend  their  soft  melodious  tones. 
And  then  from  orb  to  orb  our  course  will  lie — 
To  Mercury,  Venus,  Earth,  and  Mars.     We  then 
Will  view  the  ruins  of  the  riven  world, 
And  stray  among  the  fragments  floating  round 
This  mighty  desolation.     Then,  away 
To  glorious  Jupiter,  whose  zones  and  moons, 
In  brilliant  beauty,  never  fail  to  charm 
The  love-lit  eyes  that  gaze  upon  them  there. 
Then  on  to  Saturn,  gorgeously  enthroned 
Amid  her  satellites,  and  splendid  rings. 
To  Herschel,  and  to  Neptune  ;  then,,  still  on, 
Until  we  reach  the  outer  verge  that  rims 
This  sun's  dominions — where  the  comets  play,   . 
In  their  vast  orbits,  as  connecting  links, 
In  this  and  other  systems.     There  the  soft 
And  twilight  hues  of  eve  on  us  will  smile, 
While  from  afar,  the  anthem  of  the  orbs 
Will  fall  in  softer  cadence  on  the  ear. 
Selecting  then  a  comet's  path,  away, 
O'er  the  abyss  profound,  that  lies  between, —    j 
Where  light  meets  light  from  distant,  centrafsuns, 
IS* 


210  LELIA. 

In  feeble,  fitful  gleams, — to  take  our  stand 
Amid  the  circling  splendors  that  surround 
Another  stm,  to  hear  new  hymns  of  praise, 
And  view  new  scenes  of  grandeur  unexplored. 
Then  on,  on,  on ;  the  scene  is  ever  new, 
Forever  endless,  as  the  circles  are 
In  which  creation  moves — eternal  types 
Of  immortality,  of  truth,  of  God." 


"  O,  this  is  bliss  !"  said  Lelia.     "  Let  us  go  !" 
Said  Lelan.     "  Come,"  the  angel  said,  "  away  !" 
And  as  they  passed  the  earth,  fair  Lelia  flung 
These  notes  from  her  swift  pinions,  I  have  sung. 


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